Truths of the Heart
by Valairy Scot
Summary: Love, unconditional love, helped Siri Tachi help Obi-Wan Kenobi recover from the horror of Jabiim, but love is forbidden to a Jedi. Can love ever be allowed, if subservient to the Force, or must it be again denied?
1. Chapter 1

**This is a continuation of What the Heart Hides. Now that the horror of Jabiim has been faced, new truths, these of the heart, will be explored. How does a Jedi love, when love is forbidden, or how does one reconcile one's heart with being a Jedi - is such possible? May be overstating the rating, but better safe than sorry.**

* * *

A grin split the padawan's face as he stood in the doorway.

Sometimes, it seemed, the Force offered an opportunity too good to pass up, regardless of the consequences. This was one of those; it stared the padawan in the face and dared him to ignore it.

What better way to celebrate, than to be irritating? He would relish the reprimand, the rebuke, the reminder that life was back to normal.

After all, when two Jedi sat so close together their two heads almost seemed to touch, blonde hair and red-brown hair different and yet harmonious, as complementary as their two personalities – well, what self-respecting, impudent padawan wouldn't take advantage?

It was a perfect setting for a padawan in search of a reason to needle his master. Needling was good; needling was normalcy after the turmoil of the past few months – of demons fought and some slain, of pain and anguish and grief now replaced by happiness and relief.

Anakin Skywalker mentally rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Life was, finally, good – really good, and so he was going to be bad, really bad.

"Aw right, you two, break it up!" Obi-Wan looked up and frowned as his padawan walked in; turning his attention away from the data pad he and Siri had been studying. Anakin plastered a particularly mischievous look on his face as he planted his hands on his hips, undeterred by the not-amused gaze directed his way. Ignoring said look, having had plenty of practice in so doing, Anakin continued cheerfully, "You don't want to be mistaken for love-struck dewy-birds, now do you, Master?"

"Padawan!" The eyebrows had gone up, not drawn together, so puzzled irritation hadn't reached to true annoyance. Yet.

Even so, the slight stiffening of Obi-Wan's posture hadn't escaped the padawan's notice.

The Force may have given him the opportunity, but it hadn't dictated the tactics, and Anakin could now see that to continue in such a manner would definitely earn him a deserved scolding, for Obi-Wan tolerated little in the way of open disrespect. His lips were already thinning, a warning Anakin intended to heed. To continue would cross that unspoken line, a goal the padawan had never intended.

Anakin threw up his hands in apology and looked at Siri with a shrug, a glint of merriment in his eyes that she returned. "I told you I'd be a happy padawan next time Master was unhappy with me. Unfortunately, I've been too good; I couldn't wait any longer. See how happy I am?"

"I do, but I don't think your poor master understands," Siri replied, glancing at Obi-Wan before turning a mischievous smile back at the padawan. "Obi-Wan's had more than enough stress lately; I suggest you tell him why his being unhappy makes you happy."

"Told Siri what, Padawan?" Obi-Wan relaxed into his what-have-you-done-now-Padawan-and-what-must-I-do-to-extricate-you look. Siri's amusement along with Anakin's good cheer was infectious, even if his words had been verging on impertinence, so Anakin plastered a look of angelic innocence upon his face.

"That I could hardly wait for your first scowl or reprimand and since I hadn't earned any lately, I thought I would provoke a reaction." At his master's startled look, Anakin grew earnest, his sincerity obvious in the way his eyes softened as they returned the look. "Now I know you've recovered from – well, all that has happened. My master is back in all the ways that count. You're back, really back."

"Ah." The hint of a smile twitched the older Jedi's lips, a second of dawning realization for the man that preceded the sure to come reaction of a master to an impertinent padawan.

The knowledge of just how badly he had anticipated this moment brought a lump to Anakin's throat. Obi-Wan _was _back; his _master_ was back – the man whose funeral had taken place weeks before – the man who had spent days in the care of the healers upon his return – the man who had broken down in silent tears not a week before when a healer's mind probe had breached the barriers separating horror from reality.

_That_ man was not the master he knew and had mourned. That man was now gone; _this_ man before him was the man he remembered from before – before Jabiim, before falling victim to Asajj Ventress, before captivity and torture had transformed the man and master into one he barely recognized and who was now, finally, back before him.

Not one hundred percent back, not with his access to the Force still sporadic and unexplained, but the haunted man unable to sleep for nightmares had receded into the past. This was the Obi-Wan Kenobi of old, who seemed torn between amusement and dismay at his padawan's irreverence.

"Good Force – and you chose a particularly obnoxious way of doing so. Siri might be offended," Obi-Wan looked at Siri, who looked anything but offended. In fact she seemed rather mirthful as she switched attention between master and padawan. "Or perhaps not – what am I going to do with you both?"

"You can kiss me, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Siri batted her eyes at said Jedi. Her attempt to sound sultry and provocative was spoiled by her burst of laughter – until she caught a glimpse of the Jedi's barely perceptible wince and glance at his padawan.

"Your response is just as inappropriate as my padawan's remarks," he chided gently.

Siri's chin came up.

Anakin inwardly cringed. The female Jedi would be quick to respond to the perceived rebuke no matter how gently delivered it had been.

Much to his surprise, Siri's look softened and she sounded almost apologetic. "It's a paraphrase from a particularly bad holomovie – too low brow for your tastes. I just couldn't resist. Sorry, Kenobi."

"As a Jedi, any gratuitous and overly dramatic display of false emotion played for laughter or melodrama strike me as neither funny nor dramatic," Obi-Wan said severely. "Hence you shall never hear me proclaiming my undying love for the woman who completes my soul and drags me to the height of, er, ecstasy."

As this was a near perfect quotation from the holovid referred to, Anakin found himself somewhat speechless when normally he would be poking fun at his master's pretentiousness. He wasn't the only one – Siri was gazing wide-eyed at Obi-Wan who was gazing back at her with one eyebrow raised. Strangely enough, the near challenge ended when Siri dropped her eyes and looked away, conceding some strange kind of victory to her friend.

Anakin coughed, remembering how he had found that holomovie an inspiring prelude to his own night of passion, as he and Padme had giggled over the romantic ardor of the two leads all the way from holo-theater to bedroom, quoting and re-quoting passionate proclamations of eternal and undying love between fervent kisses until such time as they reached their own height of ecstasy.

Finally regaining his power of speech, he teased, "Ecstasy? Master, with all due respect, you just don't have the personality for despair or ecstasy," he faltered when his master flinched, painful memories shadowing Obi-Wan's eyes. Siri, too, noticed; she reached out to pat his master's hand. Anakin stumbled to break the awkward silence that had fallen. "– oh, Master, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Padawan." It was an automatic response, the I'll-be-fine-in-a-moment response born of habit; the master reassuring the padawan in that split second of regaining equilibrium.

Dealing with the aftereffects of Jabiim had done what Anakin had once thought impossible: brought Obi-Wan into deep emotional turmoil. Without the comfort and aid of the Force, the Jedi master's emotional reserve had been breached and the inner man laid all but bare. While he still held his emotions close, the padawan had seen his master's emotional core when his shields had been breached by pain and sedatives and found it more vibrant than he had ever suspected.

After a deep breath and release of same, Obi-Wan acknowledged Anakin's apology, seemingly not offended and back to his normal serenity.

"Despite the evidence of your own eyes not many days past, I see the events of the recent past have only somewhat altered your perceptions, Padawan. Perhaps that is only as it should be." A hint of sadness underlay the words as if the Jedi was profoundly aware of something within him not visible to his padawan.

Anakin crossed the room to kneel in front of his master and took the formerly twisted and broken hands within his. Such strong hands, made weak, such gentle hands, even when weak, soft hands that now only lacked the worn calluses to be the hands he remembered correcting his lightsaber grip, soothing him through nightmares or childish illness, or clasping his shoulder in unspoken approval. He suddenly tightened his fingers around those hands as Obi-Wan gaped at him in surprise.

"Master, no – I just – it's just hard after all these years for me to see you other than you've always been, especially now that you've been able to lay those memories to rest."

Was it only a week or so since he'd spent most of his nights wakening Obi-Wan from his tormented dreams, wiping away the memory of his captivity and torture with soothing words and warm arms? His own nightmares were buried even deeper, born of a time when Obi-Wan Kenobi was presumed dead and only the padawan knew that his master was alive, suffering, and in terrible pain.

"You think I'm back to my normal self?" Obi-Wan gazed at his padawan; then shook his head. "In a way you're right, Anakin, but not entirely. I had to change to survive, even if just a bit, even if I don't show it. Inside I'm different, not the same man I was. Outside – well, habits of a lifetime are not that easy to overcome. Someday I'll actually manage to teach you how to don this Jedi façade."

A casual tug on the braid brought a grin and an eye roll from the padawan. That was pure Obi-Wan, a humorous deflection of anything that touched him deeply, only now Anakin knew it for what it was, not what it masqueraded as.

"It's not for your lack of teaching – it's for lack of me learning." His repartee earned him a return grin from both Jedi – and not even a long-suffering sigh from his master this time. Siri seemed about to speak, before biting her lip as if deciding it was not her place to comment to either man. Any of Obi-Wan's friends could not help but be aware in a least a small way of the trials and tribulations of his training – certainly Anakin had shared with a few friends, too, what he perceived to be the inadequacies of his training.

Padmé and Palpatine were able to offer support without truly taking sides, just as Siri was now doing. As blunt as the female Jedi could be, she rarely interfered between master and padawan. Lately, most of her energy had been directed at helping her friend recover; there was no doubt in Anakin's mind that Siri was just as much responsible as the healers for the fact that Obi-Wan had been able to shed the horrors that had chained him long past the time his physical chains had been broken and left behind on Rattatak.

Someone, presumably Siri, most have decided Obi-Wan needed a diversion from reality and cajoled him into watching a holovid – and chosen one that must have given his master fits. He preferred boring documentaries or historical dramas, not fluffy romance.

"Um, Master, why are you able to quote – deplorably short of any passion – from _Beyond Forever_? I can't imagine you voluntarily watching that even if Master Yoda threatened you with a month of eating nothing but his stew if you didn't – and he wouldn't do that, would he – it's not his secret vice, is it?"

With a little dry cough, Obi-Wan admitted, "A certain someone thought I needed an evening just to relax and suggested downloading an 'amusing' little holovid that had become rather a hit. Despite a misgiving or two, I owed this certain someone for all her support and encouragement since my return, and, well, quite frankly, I rather looked forward to some light escapist entertainment. I trusted her judgment in this as in all else; I perhaps was wrong to do so."

"You snickered a time or two," Siri defended herself, lightly punching her friend in the arm. "Don't play the beset-upon Jedi master to your padawan in front of me. _Especially_ since I never told Anakin that the 'great Obi-Wan Kenobi' was having a great time despite of, or perhaps because of, his derision and scorn for the corny dialogue."

Without missing a beat, the Jedi said with great dignity, ignoring Siri while addressing her words, "Despite Siri's attempt to pretend it was I who was deriving great enjoyment from that treacle-dripping spectacle, it was she who was greatly entertained: she persisted in mocking every so-called sappy declamation of love."

With that said, Obi-Wan crossed his arms and sat back with a satisfied humph.

"Mocking _you_, you mean, which was much more fun and amusing," Siri interrupted. "You have no idea what it's like, Anakin, to sit next to someone like Obi-Wan during such a – insipid melodramatic holovid full of overly emotional flourishes delivered so poorly. You have probably guessed that your master does not like the mushy romantic parts. I, however, being rather more adult -."

"You were making 'smooching' noises…."

"…which you shut up," Siri retorted. "I was just trying to entertain you since it wasn't."

"Er, well, you weren't complaining about my method of shushing you," Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms and giving Siri a complacent grin. When she only huffed at him, he looked at her hands and smiled, and rather to Anakin's surprise, Siri tucked her hands away and studiously avoided looking at Obi-Wan.

Neither seemed inclined to elaborate; all the more reason to seek an explanation. "And that was?" Anakin encouraged.

The two Jedi looked at each other, and Obi-Wan lifted his hand even as Siri reached to raise it, grinning at each other. Anakin shook his head. Obi-Wan rarely shushed him with a finger across the lips, but then he had the bond to do so far more effectively with a soft mental admonishment.

"She then tried to nibble on my fingers."

"I was hungry."

"I'm not an appetizer," Obi-Wan countered.

"No?" Siri tilted her appraisingly. "Main course – no, dessert!"

As his master shook his head in despair, Anakin shook his head at the teasing. "Aw right, aw right. Enough. You're making me hungry."

When the two looked at each other, and winked, Anakin cringed. Two Jedi masters in a playful mood - it just wasn't right. Jedi were supposed to be serious and high-minded – especially his very own Jedi master.

"Hungry for your kisses," both Jedi chanted at the same time, then plastered a look of innocence on their faces. Anakin's jaw dropped even further. It had been romantic when Padmé repeated the phrase, fisting her hands in the fastenings of his shirt as they tumbled into bed, but hearing two Jedi masters so blithely repeat the line without the passion was downright – nauseating.

"Argh," he managed to croak.

"Yes, it does sound ridiculous," Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. "Can you imagine anyone saying that in real life?"

_Um, yes, I can, Master_. Anakin cleared his throat and to divert the line of conversation, decided to tease back. "So I guess your evening with Siri cheered you up, anyway, maybe even taught you a lesson – about the nature of 'true love?'"

"Good grief, no," Obi-Wan vociferously denied.

"Aw, c'mon, Master, the way those two spoke of the eternal fire burning within, their passion enough to ignite the stars –" he sputtered to a halt with a humph as Siri covered her grin with one hand as his master merely stared at him, the corners of his own mouth twitching. "What!"

"I may be a Jedi and not versed in matters of love, but I happen to believe your so-called 'true love' is richer for the absence of sickly sweet sentiments expressed in the most flowery of words. Such ardor and passion, I would think, arises mainly from hormonal lust and must just as quickly burn out. Surely true love is built on a foundation of affection and knowledge of the other."

"Well, well, well, dissertations on love from – ah - is merely an abstract argument for Jedi," Anakin said dismissively, covering his near lapse. In this subject, he was the expert, but he would never tell Obi-Wan that. "That's merely affection as I see it. Siri – what do you think?"

"Well…" Siri looked between both men. "My experience is just as, ah, limited as Obi-Wan's. I'd agree with your master, though – lasting love is based in affection and friendship, and true intimacy is the sharing of one's inner self with another."

"That seems a reasonable definition for Jedi who have little to no knowledge of the subject," Obi-Wan agreed. He quirked an eyebrow at Anakin. "You disagree, Padawan?"

Anakin knew enough not to bring passion into the discussion for a second time. Both Jedi would be quick to quote _there is no passion_ from the Code to him. It was obvious neither of them had ever been in love, for what they spoke of was a deep affection, not love. One had to experience love to understand it.

Love was so much more than affection. Love was sweaty palms and dreams in the night. Love was the tingle in lips and the electric sparkle of nerves throughout one's body at the touch of the loved one. Love was need and desire and want; love was the willingness to sacrifice all for the happiness of one.

Love was Padmé – in his heart and in his arms. Love was knowing he could not live without her – and counting the hours until they were reunited when they were apart.

Love – was capable of anything on behalf of the loved one. Love was bound by nothing.

**

As soon as Anakin left, Siri let loose the giggles she had been holding in.

Obi-Wan stared rather quizzically at her. "My padawan's departure has been known to be a source of relief in the past, but never a cause for merriment. Have I missed something?"

That set Siri off again. "Obi-Wan, you're being – so – so Obi-Wan. Clueless. Nope, Anakin has. I think your padawan fancies himself an expert on the subject of 'love,' but I don't think he believes _we_ know anything at all about the subject."

"I should hope not," was the retort. A pause was followed by a prim, "Jedi shalt not know love."

To which adage and twinkling eyes, Siri snorted in disbelief. "You do know that came from a crabby old Jedi master a millennium ago who couldn't get a date back in the days when Jedi were allowed to marry."

"I know."

"He was probably one of your ancestors, too, Kenobi."

"Now why would you assume that? I'm not looking to marry anyone and finding no luck. Nor am I 'crabby.'"

After a suitable pause for thought, Siri offered, "Grumpy?" She tilted her head sideways with a roguish grin.

"Wouldn't any Jedi be after some of Anakin's escapades in the past?" Obi-Wan crossed his arms, daring Siri to disagree. "Especially when, as his master, I was the one held responsible?"

"Qui-Gon would have been patient."

A sigh greeted that, though a smile played around Obi-Wan's lips. "As was I, generally. Remember, even I, the so-called and falsely labeled 'perfect padawan' drove Qui-Gon to grumpiness - occasionally."

"Not just Qui-Gon." Siri leaned over and patted Obi-Wan's cheek as he humphed at her. "You irritated the heck out of me, too, love. Still do, at times."

It wasn't the first time she'd called him "love," perhaps the third or fourth time since his return to the Temple. It was an endearment he had never expected to hear – from anyone, quite frankly. Rather than making him uncomfortable, it rather comforted him. His heart had reached to her, indeed to all that was good in life when he was in desperate need and the Force was not at hand.

It acknowledged the truth of their hearts without romanticizing it, proof that love indeed was a glow that warmed from within. It was a love that fit within the realities of a Jedi's life; unconditional and unattached, hence one he could accept, not struggle to deny.

"You called me 'love.'"

"You noticed, foolish one. Do you object?"

"Seriously?" He pinched his nose, pretending to consider the thought, and then grinned. "In private, no. I rather like it. What should I call you, I wonder – 'Tweedles' after your Crèche toy? I suppose in time an appropriate endearment may suggest itself to me."

"Try 'yes, dear,'" Siri suggested, eyes twinkling.

"'Yes, dear.' Hmm, it has possibilities. On the other hand, should I as a member of the Council be in a position to give you a mission to which you objected, I should hate to be in the position of disputing you with a 'yes, dear' when duty would require a 'no, dear.' Sorry, Tachi, that endearment is not suitable."

He smirked as Siri feigned disappointment. "Snoodles?" he offered, remembering Siri's lisping requests for Saureian noodles at a similar age. Pet names, if simple, he supposed he could accept – he'd lived with "gundark" as a nickname for years. His padawan, now – he snorted to himself. No doubt Anakin, should he ever be foolish enough to get entangled into some sort of lasting romantic relationship, would be full of gushing "my darling's," or, he shuddered inwardly, 'my dearest angel" or "goddess of my heart."

"How about I shush you – unless you want to shush me again?"

"For what reason, 'Tweedles,' or is it 'Snoodles'?" Obi-Wan questioned, looking sideways at her with raised brow, not finger.

Siri huffed and brought his finger to her lips and pressed a kiss to it. "Because I love how you tell me to shut up."

"Where's my padawan when I need him - I take my life in my hands anytime I try to shush you up." His eyes twinkled at her. "I do not feel like risking life and limb at the current time, so you are free to – don't nibble – my finger. It's there because you put it there, Tachi, remember."

"You haven't removed it."

"Female logic. So, Knight Tachi, how would you tell _me_ to shush up?"

*

Obi-Wan may have been joking; his eyes widened when Siri wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He sighed once her lips released his and shook his head. "I'd hate to have Anakin walk in on something like that."

"I'd have to tear your clothes off and ravish you before Anakin's eyes before he'd think we knew anything of love."

As expected, Obi-Wan shook his head, no doubt holding back a comment about how crude and crass he found that remark, though considering the quickly extinguished spark in his eyes she could not be sure. Well, he had earned that remark, considering his response to her kiss had been to bring up his padawan – the least he could have done was return it.

"Don't flirt with me, Tachi – you know my feelings."

Siri captured one of his hands and ran her thumb over the palm. "I know." His words had held a strange vulnerability that cut her teasing short. She raised the hand to her lips and placed a light kiss on it. "I do know. I also know you haven't reconciled your feelings with your sense of duty – just know I have no such qualms anytime you feel ready to have that talk we postponed."

Only days ago, yet it seemed a lifetime ago when his first un-sedated night in the Healers' Ward had resulted in a nightmare so terrible that the Force had prompted her to Obi-Wan's side. It had prompted her "I love you," and his hesitant, but heartfelt admission of the same.

It was all the Force's doing; the one good thing to come from his ordeal. The love both had buried deep inside since its first awakening when they had been just senior padawans had resurfaced – hers, by the supposed shock of Obi-Wan's death, and his, by his need to find something good from his past to hang onto while his present had threatened to strip him of everything he held dear.

During his greatest need, the Force had then guided her to be Obi-Wan's support during his recovery, choosing her as its messenger in its absence – an absence Siri hoped would not last much longer. Obi-Wan had endured far all too much already; he should not have to endure the fickleness of the Force as well.

"Yes, my dear friend, I do know. In that, at least, you have felt free to confess your heart, and even occasionally to demonstrating it." His few kisses, gentle and caring, sprang from his heart, not his loins when they came, more precious than any jewel or clever word.

"We are both are pledged to service, to the Force. I gave my life into its keeping long ago – we both did."

"Our lives, but not our hearts."

Obi-Wan was silent, though he pulled his hand free and cupped her chin.

"We sacrifice much to serve the Force." His thumb traced her lips before he dropped his hand and moved slightly away from her. "Our commitment to the Force comes before any personal desires. Siri, I hope I'm an honorable man. I'm a Jedi, first and foremost. It was my choice – it is my choice, no matter what I feel for you. I will admit the truth of my heart, but don't expect much more from me."

"You still feel that the Force was not speaking to us? That it didn't find a way to connect us?" The Force had brought the two of them together, outside of time and space, during Obi-Wan's captivity, Siri had no doubt. She had been awake, she had smelled the sour odor of an unwashed body and seen the bruised face and more importantly, she had felt the touch of his lips when he had called to her. On opposite sides of the galaxy they had been only a hand span apart in the Force.

Surely this wasn't it – the discussion they had postponed because emotions ran too high in the confusion of his return and recovery. The Force wouldn't bring them together, just to see them part again – yet, perhaps, this, too was a test of their ability to let go once again.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan admitted, rubbing his chin. "My heart spoke to me, yes, but wouldn't anyone, even a Jedi, reach for something good to combat the pain, something pure and good when the Force was out of reach?

"I needed the memory of you – that time you said you loved me before we thought we would die together, all those years ago – of Anakin, of all that is good in my life to grasp onto when that mask," his face darkened, but remarkably his voice never faltered, "when that mask tried to strip everything decent and good from me. I have let that memory go; it has been replaced by the truth – the wonderful truth that our love didn't wither away and die. I _need_ nothing of your love, now, to sustain me. I only want it, and that is my own personal, human, selfish desire. That is what I can't reconcile."

"Have you tried?" Master Yoda, even her own master, had urged her much as the Force had, to accept her love for Obi-Wan as a way to heal him. "Follow your hearts," each had counseled, "guided by the Force," regardless of the Order's views on such. To what means, by what expression, was yet unclear.

Only Obi-Wan himself seemed hesitant to do more than voice his love, finding any expression of it difficult. Without the clear voice of the Force to guide him different, the man who implicitly followed its wishes held fast to his knowledge of the tenets he had grown comfortable with.

"No, not once." He laced his hands over Siri's. "I had to heal. I couldn't have done so without you. Without the Force, I had to be more human, more man, than Jedi. Now that the healers think they can repair my connection, that I can once again be the Jedi I once was and want once more to be – I don't know where that leaves the man in me. I'll always love you; but telling you so may be all I'll be capable of."

She nodded, leaning into his shoulder as his arm came around her.

"We go back to where we were?" Back to friends, back to hiding their hearts as they had done for the better part of two decades?

"Never back." His hand brushed her cheek; a gesture Siri instinctively understood. He rested his head against hers, his voice soft and yet firm.

"I won't hide, from either you or myself. Never again. The truth is out, and I don't want to put it back into hiding."

"But not - forward?"

There was a moment of silence that seemed an eternity. When the answer came, it was low and soft, and terribly uncertain. In that very uncertainty, Siri found hope.

"That I don't know. To know something is not to act on it; as Master Yoda says, always in motion is the future. I shall trust in the Force to guide us in this as in all other matters."

The Jedi in Siri had no choice but to agree.


	2. The Care and Feeding of a Jedi

**Chapter 2. The Care and Feeding of a Jedi**

"It seems a lot happened in the short while I've been away. I'm quite pleased to hear about Obi-Wan, of course," Mace's eyes went to the too-long empty seat before them as he and Yoda entered the Council room high atop a spire. "He was so damaged, that for a long while I was – rather concerned about his ability to recover, or how well. I should have known, though; there's a strength in him I don't think even he realizes."

Yoda's eyes followed and he nodded thoughtfully. "Strong, yes, strong he is. For the Force good that is for upon his shoulders much lies." His words held a hint of sorrow, as if he foresaw many possible futures, all necessitating that strength of character he referred to. "Those whom the Force burdens most are those it loves best, for they in turn are those who love the Force best, its dedicated and loyal servants."

Mace looked at Yoda with a bit of curiosity, but decided to pursue it another time. "So it seems you were right about Knight Tachi."

"The Force, not I. A lesson it wished to remind Obi-Wan of, that one cannot just reach out to others but must accept as well the reach of others in turn. A field will yield crops only when fed itself. Replenishing he needed, too little he had left to give himself when he was the one in need."

The young Obi-Wan had little stood out, studious, well behaved except for the occasional issues with temper. An innate kindness and gentleness had contrasted with a boy's sometimes-rambunctious spirit and uncompromising sense of right and wrong – senses that had led him astray at times.

Few, including Mace, had understood Yoda's interest in the boy or seen the promise of the Jedi to come. Despite some early mishaps, the ordinary boy grew into a promising padawan, then into one of the Order's finest young knights.

Then, as now, he quietly gave all that was in his power to give to others with so little conscious thought that he considered himself the one to be fortunate in his friends.

"So how exactly did she help him?"

A slow blink of his eyes preceded Yoda's answer, a piercing gaze at his fellow Jedi accompanied it. "She gave him the love of a Jedi – unconditional acceptance. More I will tell you another time, in my quarters."

Mace nodded and glanced once more at the empty chair, wondering how long it would be before Obi-Wan was able to resume his seat in Council. Not for the first time he was relieved that the Council had never taken a final vote on the proposed replacement for the presumed dead Jedi.

"Rejoin us he soon will. Miss his insight I do, yet free of stress the healers wish him to remain as yet; stress enough Skywalker gives him."

"And care and attention, to be fair," the senior Council member added. "The boy seems to be growing up at last, putting someone else ahead of his own desires without complaint. It's a shame that it took something this harsh to focus his attention, though I wonder….," he shook his head. "I haven't had a chance to visit Obi-Wan since that blasted fish dinner – mark my words, I'll find something suitable for young Skywalker – get one of the mechanics to mess around with one of his droids, something."

He leaned back in his seat, contemplating the thought until a light whack against his shin brought him upright to glare at Yoda.

"To his level do not descend." After a pause, Yoda scratched an ear and blinked. "However, good to see Obi-Wan laugh, it was – better it was even than to see a certain outspoken Council member wide-eyed when faced by the reproachful eyes of his dinner. More laughs he needs. Yes, out do young Skywalker you should; enlist Obi-Wan to help you retaliate you should. Takes sides he does not – aids and abets the both of you."

"You are a meddling old troll, you know." Mace eyed the gimer stick, drawing his ankles to one side.

"Meddling! Humph. A reason I have for all I do."

Before the two Jedi could get into an argument over Yoda's "meddling," the rest of the Council members drifted in, and the day's meeting came to order.

**

"Tyrannus." The Sith lord inclined his head at the hologram of his apprentice, leaning back in his seat with a sardonic twist to his brow.

"My lord Sidious." Dooku bowed. "What news of Kenobi?"

"Very little." The disdain lacing the words contrasted to the pleasant countenance. "The Jedi Council has as yet failed to inform the Chancellor's Office of Master Kenobi's return or current state of health. It does seem that the poor man was rather traumatized, even though he managed to escape both the mask and captivity without aid. Whatever did your little acolyte do to him?"

A throaty chuckle, a sneer of icy venom betrayed how Sidious relished contemplating the possibilities, preferring his own speculations over actual knowledge. "Not that I am displeased, other than with her only true failure - to actually terminate his life. What is your interest in him, Tyrannus – do you seek to accomplish what she failed or have you – another purpose – in asking?"

Dooku did not let his face betray his own thoughts on the matter. He had no qualms about doing what was expedient and necessary to accomplish his goals; his goal was to bring order from chaos and restore peace to the galaxy under an iron discipline. He despised unbridled passion, which included cruelty without necessity. Cruelty was merely one tool of many for the skilled, a most crude one as well, not an object in and

of itself.

Ventress had gone behind his back - which displeased him immensely - and she had been suitably punished for it. She would not so dare again; should she and Kenobi cross paths again, she knew to just kill him. Dooku's plans necessitated his death, not his suffering.

All in all, though, he regretted the necessity. Kenobi was the padawan of his padawan and the great grand padawan of Master Yoda himself, a Jedi worthy of that great line, and one who would have been a great asset as well as ally if he could have been turned. He had proven he could not be by virtue of defeating the Sith mask.

However, there was still the matter of the boy, that dratted brat.

"Only as regards your interest in Skywalker, my lord." It was an interest he did not share. Skywalker was too impulsive and uncontrolled; he would never be little more than a deadly weapon for his betters to wield unless his dark emotions could be focused. He who was blessed by the Force with immense potential was equally cursed by his upbringing.

Skywalker was, simply, not a good enough Jedi while Kenobi was, simply, too good a Jedi. One was fettered by his fears, the other fettered by his adherence to the light.

Of the two, only Kenobi with the full focus of all his capabilities would be worthy to wear the mantle of Sith. With Kenobi at his side, Dooku knew he could bring the galaxy to true peace and orderliness. It was not to be; Kenobi had not the conviction or courage to grow past his self-imposed limitations, his Jedi teachings, to achieve _his_ true potential, only the conviction and courage to uphold them. The sheer tenacity to which he held to his ideals made him a formidable opponent, and thus one to be disposed of.

Kenobi was a threat to the Sith, Skywalker unlikely ever to be. If Sidious intended for Skywalker to replace _him_, his position was more than secure.

He would bide his time before making his bid for power.

"Skywalker is in turmoil. While he is not yet ripe for the plucking while Kenobi remains alive, Kenobi's death will do what time otherwise will do. I do so look forward to that day. If the Force is kind, I shall be a witness to it, if not the means."

"Kenobi seems rather skilled at evading such a fate, my lord."

"He has proven resourceful, evading several of my traps over the years," Sidious agreed. "No matter, the day comes, Tyrannus; one day, soon, I foresee that Skywalker will be in a position to save him – and not only will not lift a hand to do so, but will lift a hand against him. To see his realization of such betrayal – ah, to be the witness to that – the worst wound that Kenobi could be dealt, an action beyond any he could even conceive. Skywalker, his own apprentice, as his murderer will be my ultimate revenge against his interference all these years."

Dooku stiffened and bowed. He understood instinctively that when he was ready to move against the Sith lord, he had best be sure to succeed. To fail was not something he wished to contemplate.

**

"Are you sure there is nothing more you can do to me?" Obi-Wan wasn't sure he wanted an answer, especially as he was pulling on his boots and eyeing the doorway with an eagerness to bolt that he hadn't felt in some years.

He felt like he had been poked and prodded without mercy all morning. The healers had all been outwardly quite proper about it, but he suspected they enjoyed tormenting him immensely. He had spent hours hooked up to monitors and endured an exhaustive grilling regarding when he felt the Force, when he lost his grip, what and when and with whom he was at the time.

"Not today; we need to analyze everything before we start in on you again." The healer stared a bit absently at Obi-Wan's chart, his face showing intense concentration. "The cyclical nature of the Force coming and going has to be tied to something inside you we haven't pinned down yet, but the answer is here, somewhere. I'm convinced of that."

"I would rather you find a solution than the cause."

"I prefer a cure over a mere solution; a cure is permanent. The question is just _how _and_ why_ that mask affected you, and if it's the midis reacting to something or if it's the midis themselves that were harmed and the cause of the reactions."

"Not just my midis were harmed." The words escaped Obi-Wan before he could bite them back, but to his surprise, they weren't bitter, but tinged with a hint of wry amusement.

Neille looked up and smiled in acknowledgement, his healer's demeanor not quite subduing his own pleasure at his patient's ability to find humor in the situation. "And most of you has recovered. Your lingering fatigue may be related to your Force connection problem, although until you build up your stamina and muscle tone you'll continue to tire easily. Cielan," Neille smirked at his patient at the mention of the mind healer, "is not ready to let you out of her clutches, yet, either."

"She has already informed me of that." Obi-Wan made a face. He had no objections to the mind healer on a personal level, but some of their sessions had been uncomfortably personal and painful for a deeply private man such as he. Not even his padawan was privy to some of the personal thoughts and beliefs touched on.

Or was he?

Once again, a tendril of concern over just how much Anakin had heard through his tattered shields while he had been in the bacta tank surfaced to worry him. His mind muddled by drugs or not, the knowledge of Anakin's intrusion into his mind had triggered a verbal outburst against his padawan that had shamed and embarrassed him. To this day he was grateful that only Neille had been privy to that and had talked some sense into him before he had accused his padawan of a willful violation of his master's mind.

He needed to speak to Anakin, if only to set his own mind at ease.

His deepest self had been violated without his knowledge or consent, and while it had been medically justified, it still mortified Obi-Wan, far more than Healer E'shon's accidentally triggered intrusion and reaction that had come later. There were things in his mind he did not want Anakin to see, thoughts and feelings that he was ashamed to admit were his at the time even if now long gone and released into the Force.

Neille let him go with a pat on the arm. "You're still on medical leave, but the restrictions on your movement are removed. Don't overdue anything – and until we place you on Temple duty, you're not to participate in any Council meetings, either. We still want to keep any mental and physical stress to a minimum until you regain your strength."

"Until I regain the Force, or don't react to your tests," Obi-Wan filled in. "Until I'm assured that any flashbacks I might still have are minor and do not interfere with my day to day functioning." Neille grinned as Obi-Wan ticked off the healers' points one by one, clapping Obi-Wan on the back as the Jedi finished off with, "until everyone around me, including myself last but not least, is assured that not only am I recovered physically and emotionally, but have taken some of my accrued personal leave to rest before returning to the rigors of the war."

He stared a little warily at Neille, for the healer was clearly amused as well as a bit surprised. "What?"

"Actually paying attention to the healers now, Obi-Wan? My, my, how the mighty have fallen. In truth, we aren't really a sociable bunch up here – we prefer to have no guests to disturb our daily routine, so we want you healthy and at your peak. Your health is more important than the war."

Not matter how blithe Neille's initial words, Obi-Wan knew from the solemnity of his tone just how seriously he meant that last, even if Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he entirely agreed. As much as he hated war, sometimes war was necessary to protect the innocent. It was not love of fighting but love of peace that had the Jedi risking their lives and the lives of their clone troopers.

"For the moment," he said softly.

Silence spoke volumes as the two men just exchanged looks, for each knew the war was far from easy on anyone – those fighting, those left behind, and those who had to sew up the pieces.

"May the Force be with us all." It was both a blessing and a plea.

**

Within the Force, a ghost watched his padawan wander the Room of a Thousand Fountains. This time he came not as one seeking its peace, but as one a part of it.

Imprisonment and torture had stolen the Jedi's serenity, wounded his body and soul, and had affected his ability to use the Force with any consistency. It had been a long and painful struggle to recover; it was a struggle that was nearly, yet not entirely, complete.

It was due, in part, to his own inner strength and the support of his fellows.

And so the arms of this ghost no longer ached to comfort or take his pain upon himself, for others had done in the flesh what he had wished to do in that chilly cell on Rattatak, there able only to cradle the broken body of his padawan with mere arms of spirit.

Now this ghost hoped that his padawan's greatest test of self to date would prove to have been the greatest test of his life: that hope was in vain, he knew equally well. More tests remained to be surmounted throughout the remainder of his mortal life, tests perhaps greater and tests perhaps lesser, for Obi-Wan Kenobi had a destiny and a burden just as Anakin Skywalker did. Both men would be equally tested in times yet to come. The Guardian and the Chosen One: the fate of one inextricably tied to the other, intertwined and interdependent.

Love, not just destiny, connected both men; love for each other and love for others challenged and strengthened both. Love would triumph, or love would destroy, but it was love or the fear of losing love that carved the destiny of each.

Deny it, pursue it, embrace it – how each handled it would trigger shockwaves throughout the galaxy.

Anakin Skywalker already loved too well, too deeply, too blindly. His love was allowed freedom without restraint; he grabbed for love with single-minded purpose and held it tight. Love for those he held near and dear exceeded his love for those others.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had hidden love deep within for long years, not trusting it, for he had been taught that to love one above others was the path away from the Force and away from the love of all that was a Jedi's compassion. Love for all exceeded his human heart's needs.

Love of one and love of many – how balance was found in the choices each man made would determine if the Force would as well. How each handled love would prove to be either salvation or destruction of all that both held dear. Not even a Force ghost knew the outcome; each choice as yet only narrowed the possible futures.

Love was the legacy and bequest of Rattatak, for there it had been re-awakened for one as it had been for one left to mourn. The next choice was Obi-Wan Kenobi's to make – to deny, accept, or embrace that which had been reawakened in Siri Tachi's heart as well.

Siri's love, startled out of hiding at the terrible news of the Jedi's death in battle had given the female knight the strength to help her fellow Jedi finally face and release the horrors of his captivity. Obi-Wan's love for Siri and those he cherished had helped him survive those very horrors; it was his long-buried love for Siri that had proved the key to freeing himself from the Sith torture mask slowly twisting him to the dark.

Their love faced one final test, but one of the human heart, not the Force, now that love once woken would no longer be denied. Each had now accepted it as a gift of the Force; now would it be embraced?

The choice lay solely with them.

Their love had proven to supercede attachment, of falling within the boundaries allowed by the Order, and love encouraged by Masters Yoda and Adi Gallia only because and as long as their love met only the test and acceptance of the Force itself.

In the world of the living, the only barrier to further expression of love was Obi-Wan himself.

Not until he was well and he had the guidance of the Force did he wish to resolve his wishes and desires against his duty and vows. Until then, he was content with no more than the open admission of his feelings, hesitant to yield to human yearnings.

It mattered little to the Force how the two Jedi expressed their love, it was enough that they loved; within the Force there existed only love in its purest form. Only within the mortal realm of sentient life was there distinction, of boundaries of self and cultural restraints. Within the spiritual realm there was none.

Love was the weapon gifted to Obi-Wan by the Force. How he wielded it was his choice – and when.


	3. With Friends Like These

**Chapter 3. With Friends Like These**

Dappled sunlight and the whisper of a breeze was part of the illusion, this oasis of serenity. Here in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, wandering the twisting paths and past plants abundant with life, ears delighting in the splash of fountains as his soul delighted in the peace of a garden in harmony, Obi-Wan felt more connected to the Force than elsewhere. No place within the Temple was stronger in the Living Force and it almost seemed as if here the very Force was coaxing his midichlorians out of hiding.

The healers had still not come up with a satisfactory answer as to why his connection had not returned fully and there were times when Obi-Wan wondered if it would ever again be a part of him as before.

Oh, Neille had come up with some answers, but by themselves, those answers were incomplete. The mask, as he had been soundly scolded for not elaborating on, almost certainly had a biological or neurological component to its make up, clearly compromising his neural pathways.

The "tendrils of evil" he had felt infiltrating his mind had, in a way, been an apt description of what the healers now suspected was affecting him. The specific transmission or counteragent was yet unknown, hence the exhaustive battery of tests. The healers spouted words about molecular and biological secretions interacting with his autoimmune defenses – but all those fancy terms didn't help any. The Force still switched on and off and so far randomly and unpredictably.

The healers had only come up with a temporary solution they'd nicknamed "Force transfusions." Siri, or Anakin, Mace or Yoda, sometimes Bant, would send the Force to him to bolster his weak connection, preventing the see saw effect that so unsettled him.

It was a makeshift remedy, not a cure, but he was grateful all the same.

He meandered amidst flowers and shrubs, pausing to sniff a flower or tilt his head at the gentle splash of water on stone, nodding at other Jedi he happened upon. He rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt facing the dark-haired Jedi who was clearly waiting for him, a smile creasing his face at Obi-Wan's surprise.

"Garen…how'd you -?" he started to question when the other man reached out and clasped Obi-Wan's arm before pulling him into an embrace that startled both of them.

"I, ah, took the long way from one duty station to another," Garen replied. He scrutinized his friend, before a wide grin broke out. "You old son of a bantha – I just had to see you with my own eyes."

"I pity those poor eyes, then," Obi-Wan said lightly as the two released each other.

"My eyes may be recoiling in shock, but my heart is elated at the sight of you. I doubt 'The Negotiator' would currently set hearts aflutter if he was interviewed on the Holonet," Garen allowed, laughing at Obi-Wan's headshake. "Sure, okay, your padawan is the heart throb of a galaxy of teenage girls and the hero to almost as many boys – but I've heard rumors that you've got your own following, as well."

"Garen!" Obi-Wan reproved him; the look only broadening Garen's grin. Obi-Wan sighed; he knew his friend's thoughts of old: Why couldn't his friend just relax and enjoy the attention? Garen would - and often had - said it was one of the Force's great-unanswered questions – it wasn't as if Obi-Wan had to participate in any of the fantasies.

"Force, it's good to see you – Obi, don't you dare ever die on us again. Too many of us depend on you. I wish I'd been here to see Bant's face when you arrived – Siri's, too. That must have been a real strain on her to be a proper Jedi, or was it?"

"I was the one, my friend, who nearly let go of the improprieties," Obi-Wan replied, purposely misunderstanding. "I hugged Bant rather harder than I should have."

Garen merely rolled his eyes at this response. "And she probably all but fell into her best friend's arms, too. I expected that. What about Siri?"

Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"Are you enjoying this or hiding something? Was Siri there to greet you?"

"She was there, too."

"And?" Garen raised his own eyebrow.

"I think I scared her." A wry grin accompanied the admission. Garen merely snorted.

"Nothing scares that woman, yet I'm not surprised. She cares for you, old man, and I mean more than just as one friend for another. Underneath that calm, cool and controlled exterior of hers, she really cares about you, and the way you're behaving right now, I suspect you feel much the same, even if neither of you will ever admit it. I'm right, aren't I?"

The penetrating gaze saw a little too much. Garen shook his head and laid a hand on his friend's arm.

"The two of you both put the Force ahead of yourselves – always have and always will. Don't be a fool, Obi, accept what the Force gives you - you both would be better Jedi for it, in my not so humble opinion."

There was so much sincerity and honesty in the words that Obi-Wan could not remain entirely silent regarding something he was still wrestling with himself. "Actually, the true depth of our regard sort of took us both by surprise as well, but we're learning to accept and deal with our feelings in a manner appropriate for Jedi."

"Manner appropriate!" Garen took Obi-Wan's arm and felt for a pulse, nodded in mock relief, sighed and released the arm only to waggle a finger in Obi-Wan's face. "You gundark – I tell you, that woman would willingly fall into your arms and into your bed -."

"That's enough, Garen!" Obi-Wan sighed. Garen, bless his kind heart, was one Jedi who never worried about "attachments" because he enjoyed the company of women too well to get attached to just one. To him, female companionship was "fun" and a part of life, separate from emotions such as love and attachment.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan changed the subject. "It does my heart good to see you, my friend."

The look on his friend's face softened for a moment, the easy humor set aside for the briefest of moments as he laid both hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders as if needing a tactile reassurance of who stood before him.

"Yeah, me, too – I truly believed you were dead, because it didn't seem remotely possible for you to be alive. Stars, am I glad to be wrong. So, has that ugly mug of yours been allowed outside the Temple yet?"

"No, it needed to be one of a matched pair." Obi-Wan ducked as Garen pretended to throw a punch at him. "Truthfully, I haven't felt strong enough, but I'm getting there.

I can't believe how little stamina I have, even now."

"Bad, huh?" All teasing was set aside as the Jedi searched the eyes of his friend.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad…really bad, Gar, I wasn't in very good shape." He fell silent a moment as Garen nodded.

Shaking himself out of the memories, he added, "But that's the past and I am finally moving past all that. Let's get Bant and Siri, I'll see if I can dig up Anakin from wherever he's off to, and we can raid the dining hall for some dessert."

"You lost your padawan? Again?"

Obi-Wan met the raised eyebrow with one of his own. Long gone were the days when the tease only prompted a long-suffering sigh. He'd lost Anakin so many times in the first year or two that it had become rather a joke to his friends, no matter how distressing the new master had found it at the time.

Anakin had seen no need to tell his master about some of his nocturnal excursions – usually on some droid-part run; rooting around in some discard heap he had a knack for discovering. Only their shared bond had allowed his worried master to track the wayward apprentice down. By the time Anakin had learned to shield well enough to keep Obi-Wan from accessing the bond, he was old enough for Obi-Wan to stay put – and worry no less until the teen arrived home.

Their confrontations over the same had been the beginning of the discord between them.

Anakin became convinced Obi-Wan would never loosen the strings, and Obi-Wan had known all too well that Anakin was too undisciplined and young to be in charge of himself. Having Chancellor Palpatine oh-so-kindly ask if Obi-Wan was being a bit overprotective of his young charge – in the young man's presence – had only made the master appear overprotective and lacking in trust.

It had been meant well; Palpatine might have been of an age to be a grandparent, but he had never married and never raised children.

"He's an adult now, Garen, he can schedule his own free time as he wishes, especially on leave. He had a rough time on Jabiim and came face to face with some rather hard realities there, from what I've heard."

"Oh? Such as?"

"Deciding who will have a chance to live – and who doesn't."

"Ouch."

Both men were silent. Both had had to make those decisions, all too many times. The hardest part was living with it afterwards.

******

"Hero with No Fear!' Garen raised a glass to his friend's padawan as Anakin joined the friends, clustered around a small table and chatting amicably away. The vast dining hall was nearly empty.

Obi-Wan poured Anakin a glass and waved a hand at the dessert tray before them, managing to hide his snort at the sobriquet.

"A party?" Anakin asked, taking the glass and grinning. From the looks of the tray, none of the Jedi had practiced restraint, stuffing themselves with all sorts of sweets and fruits, some of it gooey with cream, apparent from the smear that graced one corner of Garen's mouth. He sniffed at his drink and wrinkled his nose. Muja juice? Well, the friends weren't so relaxed and happy due to drinking anything potent.

Obi-Wan reached for another piece of fruit and only shook his head as he saw Garen and Anakin mock-fight over the last piece of _something _– so covered in sugar and cream that it was hard to tell what it was.

"Doesn't he let you eat sweets?" Garen demanded of Anakin, yielding gracefully.

"Not these kinds." Anakin shook his head. Eyeing his master to be sure that Obi-Wan would not try to snatch it away from him, he explained, "He says I'll get addicted to them, and next thing he knows, he'll have a padawan too fat and too slow to rescue him."

"Brat," Obi-Wan grumbled good-naturedly. "I'm afraid a sugar high will slow your reflexes and you'll get yourself killed. I don't think you'll be fighting for your life anytime soon, so as long as it's the last one and you can't overindulge," he waved a magnanimous hand, "enjoy it."

"See, he loves me," Anakin confided with a wink at the others.

Obi-Wan merely rolled his eyes and popped another piece of fruit into his mouth.

"C'mon, Master, admit it. You like me. Stars, after all the years of raising me and having my exalted self ever present, you love me. Admit it."

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. "A master never admits to loving his padawan, especially around other Jedi. It's bad for discipline. I will concede that I am rather fond of you, my padawan," to which comment Anakin stuck out his tongue. The descending eyebrow rose again.

"Give it up, Anakin, you'll never get Obi-Wan to admit to anything he doesn't want to," Garen chuckled. "Me – I'll admit I love you. I love Siri and I love Bant. I even love that stubborn gundark across the table. I love everyone."

"So I hear," Anakin countered, as Bant leaned over and sniffed Garen's glass only to pause at Anakin's words. Everyone raised an eyebrow at the padawan, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I mean, I hear that you, ah, get around a bit."

"I, my friends, don't have a girl on every planet, I'll have you know," Garen said loftily, at the same moving his glass away from Bant. "It got too hard to keep track of them all, so I sorta lost touch with some – leaving about ten or so I keep in close touch with, very close touch." He waggled his eyes.

"You and your groupies – will you ever grow up," Bant chided in the affectionate tones of one good friend to another.

"Groupies? You insult me. They love me and I love them back. Share the love, that's me. Some Jedi are celibate, some aren't. I make up for those who are, such as all of you."

If Anakin reddened a bit, no one noticed, for the friends were all intent on the good-natured ribbing between Garen and Bant.

"Love 'em and leave 'em isn't very Jedi-like," Bant scolded.

"Hey, they're not one night stands or empty promises. I've never been that shallow, have I, Obi?"

"I wouldn't know, Garen; you know I've never listened closely to your tales of conquest," Obi-Wan protested. "Even in our padawan days, I figured it was none of my business to know which padawans were that smitten with you or you with them. Qui-Gon kept me too busy, anyway; what little free time I had was too precious to sit around listening to you."

"You were just jealous that I got all the fun. Now I suppose you're jealous of Anakin as well - ."

"Me?" Anakin looked shocked as all eyes turned to him. Other than that time Yoda had caught him in the hangar, inebriated and celebrating his majority following the party the Chancellor had sponsored for him, and his master's disapproval and disappointment when he'd slunk home, he didn't think anyone knew of his interest in the fairer sex in the days before he had as an adult again met the one and only girl of his dreams, Padmé.

"He keeps that tight a leash on you?" Garen snickered. "Poor kid, you have no idea what you're missing by clean living."

"Garen, that's enough." Obi-Wan's words were mild, but firm.

His master's view on his padawan's "appeal" had been made clear to him more than once. It also amused Anakin, for Obi-Wan was usually oblivious to his own mature appeal, and when it was called to his attention, showed an amusing mix of tolerant amusement and astonished disbelief.

"Aw, you men, who wants to talk about Anakin's or Garen's girls, anyway," Siri interjected. "Garen, you should be ashamed of yourself – and don't bat those brown eyes at me, Obi-Wan's are much nicer." Garen looked shocked at her comment: he had told his friends more times than they could remember that it was his eyes and his smile that attracted women to him; none had ever bothered to contradict him until now.

"You prefer the gundark's eyes to mine?" He stared critically at his friend, then shrugged and smiled winningly. "I mean, they're nice, but they're not mine."

"Yup, I prefer Obi-Wan's," Siri said easily. Anakin smirked at the older Jedi's open disbelief as Obi-Wan leaned back, his mouth twitching with quiet amusement. "Don't you, too, Bant?"

"By human or Mon Calamari standards? Garen's are a nice shade of brown, Anakin – you have the prettiest blue eyes on you, like a Mon Calamari sea on a nice day, and Obi," Bant studied him, "yup, his eyes are nice and kind, so you don't really know what color they are, you just know you like them."

She sat back satisfied as Obi-Wan grinned and Garen looked disappointed. Anakin smirked at Bant's compliment before his thoughts drifted off onto another tangent, barely registering the next part of the conversation.

"We could compare -." Garen smirked, as Obi-Wan interrupted him with an affectionate glare. "Hair – I was going to say hair color."

"Lightsabers," Anakin interjected, thinking of suggesting a sparring match. Four pairs of eyes swung to him and he could see the reprimand in Obi-Wan's eyes, half-hidden behind his sudden cough. Anakin flushed suddenly. "Sparring, I was thinking we all had our lightsabers, don't we, and we could spar together, you know – with lightsabers."

"Allow me," Siri suggested as Obi-Wan opened his mouth. "Anakin. Shut up."


	4. Uncomfortable Realities, Difficult Choic

**Chapter 4**. **Uncomfortable Realities, Difficult Choices**

"Obi-Wan!" The Jedi turned to see Mace Windu behind him. "I was just on my way to visit you." Falling into step with Mace, Obi-Wan waited for the older Jedi to speak.

"I've spoken with Yoda."

"Ah. Mace, I should have asked you –"

The Korun Master waved off Obi-Wan's words. "If you were going to apologize, don't. We both know you knew that Yoda would speak to me about your battle with that mask; that conversation with the healers didn't need to be turned into a spectator sport. Obi-Wan," here the Jedi unexpectedly hesitated. He dropped a hand on his companion's arm for a moment before withdrawing it, an unusual visible sign of concern.

"I'm fine, Mace." Mistaking the cause, Obi-Wan was quick to reassure the older man.

"I know." Even more rare a sight than hesitation, a smile blossomed forth, only to quickly disappear as the Jedi threw a speculative glance at his colleague. "Which means now I wonder if we should have a little talk about you raising your voice to me?"

"My – oh!" Obi-Wan stared at Mace; then shook his head, chagrined. "So, Temple gossip reached even you. Do I need to apologize – I'm afraid I'm fuzzy on that." Utter exhaustion had overtaken him once the euphoria of returning to the Temple had worn off. He remembered his arrival, his initial evaluation by the healers – and little more. He vaguely recalled Mace sitting by his side when he first woke, of fighting tears and laughter both, and the hand that had offered him a tissue and reassurance.

Both Bant and Anakin had teased him sometime later about raising his voice to Mace, about earning the respect and admiration of those who would have never dared the same.

Mace quickly reassured him. "Absolutely not; no apologies needed, Obi-Wan. Actually, I might owe you one – you weren't ready to speak and it might have seemed that I was pushing you."

"_Why does everyone want me to talk about it …!" _It was coming back to him now.

He rubbed his eyes; yes, he had shocked himself with an outburst. He had fluctuated between numb speech and withdrawn silence – all depending on what reality he had believed in at the time.

"_It's over, isn't it – it's really over? I'm not going to wake up back there, am I?"_

"_No, Obi-Wan. You're home, you're free now."_

"_Good. I don't want – to wake up there." _

He had desperately wanted to believe. Neille's gentle reassurance had just about persuaded him of that truth, lying there on the exam table, that and the gentleness of the touches treating wounds inflicted by less than gentle touches before this. He had feared, deep inside, it was all a dream built of hope and liberty a mere phantom. Wishes and dreams had sustained him so long he had not truly dared to believe in freedom, not at first, preferring illusions of such to the reality he feared still held him.

It really was no wonder everyone had been so concerned about him.

He waved off Mace's look of concern with a smile. "I believe my padawan was quite prepared to defend my honor until Bant told him she thought our little – words – actually brought a bit of prestige and admiration towards myself, and thus him. Obviously, our occasional disagreements in Council haven't leaked out."

"They aren't loud and vocal, and you usually win, Master Cheeky," Mace countered as Obi-Wan shook his head at his colleague's epithet. "While I did wish to see how you were doing for myself, I did have another reason for seeking you out."

"Ah." Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled as he hid a smile. "Fish? I had no input on the menu."

Mace shuddered. Obi-Wan looked innocent. Both men exchanged looks and grinned.

"You're going to help me with payback, Obi-Wan. I know you gave that idea to your padawan in the first place – don't bother to deny it."

"Mace, it was just a fish."

"A fish with eyeballs!" Mace glared as Obi-Wan tried to stifle a chuckle.

"You sought me out to speak of fish, then?"

"No, what I wanted to talk you about was a suggestion we reconsider how the Order deals with older initiates. The issue hasn't formally come up in Council yet, but Yoda has broached the subject; I understand Adi is of the same mind. Quite bluntly, we have too few eligible Jedi to take on padawans; too many youngsters we sacrifice if we follow current guidelines. You've made your views known before this on the waste of potential – I'd like to have an informal discussion with you."

"Talking and offering opinions are well within my current capabilities though I'm not sure if the healers would agree," the younger man muttered as they reached the Jedi's quarters. Dropping into a seat, Obi-Wan opened his mouth to continue, but Mace interrupted him.

"This is not official, Obi-Wan; I'm not going to risk a healer coming down on either of us for compromising your health. All I ask is that you apply some of your considerable wisdom to the issue that Yoda raised."

"You're actually contemplating retaining these initiates rather than giving them a choice as to which auxiliary they will be sent?"

Mace looked a bit uncomfortable, no doubt remembering how Obi-Wan had not been given a choice, only an assignment to Agri-Corps. Yoda had known exactly what he was doing; young Obi-Wan had not.

"Yoda raised a valid point. To quote: 'Doubts the war has raised. Look at the Code with fresh eyes we think the Order should do, once the war is over. Many Jedi have been lost; many more will we lose. Remain the same, difficult it may be. Lose initiates because not enough knights to take padawans we cannot afford – yet one master, one padawan we hold to. Contentious shall a debate be, many if not most on the Council would disagree, even you. Open your eyes and your mind you should while time there is.' So I told Yoda he was a fool – and then thought about what he said. I'm asking you to do the same."

Gathering his thoughts, Obi-Wan got up to make a pot of tea. He was no longer that nearly thirteen-year-old initiate sent away because no master would choose him, yet a part of that boy still remained deep down. He was Council member Kenobi, now, with a different perspective than that boy, developed from years of serving the Force. He poured two cups and returned to his seat, offering one to Mace with his words.

"Mace, am I the best one to ask? You know my own history; I've made my views clear before this. Don't send them away suddenly and without preparation, give them choices and counseling. Don't tell Master Yoda I said this," he gave a wry grin as he looked at his ankle, "but let's at least try to teach them to be the next generation of knights."

"And how do we do that?"

"We have to tell them we don't know if any one of them can become a knight without forming a bond with a master; tell them the bond is partially a teaching tool, a path to knowledge that can't always be explained by example or words. We tell them we are offering opportunities to what end we can't predict – we make them partners in an experiment, not 'rejects.' We do all that we can do and ask only they do the same and that we will have to trust in the Force to guide us."

Mace listened with a thoughtful frown, and then offered with a dry little cough, "You know you weren't a reject, Obi-Wan. You were actually, ah, Yoda's pet project, you and Qui-Gon both."

A little smile played around Obi-Wan's lips, for what had seemed the worst that could befall a thirteen-year-old boy had proven to be merely one stumble of many along a difficult life's path.

"At the time I was sure I was. I learned a lot of lessons and so did Qui-Gon. Chief among them was to accept the Force, not to place my own desires first. I would not care to repeat the experience, but I know now I would survive it. Whatever future we create for ourselves is the future we will live in; it is the life we will accept no matter its hardships if it is the future the Force needs us to live to whatever ends."

*

"Ah." Having sounded out his fellow council member on business, Mace contemplated the personal. As a friend of Qui-Gon Jinn, he had taken it upon himself to keep a friendly eye on his knighted padawan, filling a role that Qui-Gon could no longer. That regard had turned into friendship, somewhat to his surprise, considering the difference in age and experience.

He respected him as well.

There was no doubt the younger Jedi was a traditionalist, yet enough of his master had rubbed off on him to make him receptive to new ideas. Lately, Yoda had started to cast himself in the role of radical reformer – to Mace's way of thinking and usually with a metaphysical elbow in the ribs - that not too surprisingly, he, Mace opposed. After due reflection, Obi-Wan was usually the first to back Yoda up while managing to mediate the entire Council into some kind of reluctant consensus that hit a middle ground.

There were times that Mace suspected Yoda proffered proposals with hidden glee just to provoke discussion, pretending to hold a more extreme position that allowed the Council to reach a "compromise" that Yoda had always intended.

Yoda had seen and raised subjects to which Mace automatically dissented, but on reflection had to admit needed an honest appraisal.

Yoda had brought up how the war was costing the Order the loss of its next generation of leaders and the effect on the younger Jedi as well.

And not long ago Yoda had brought up the issue of love and attachment, and bluntly told Mace that Obi-Wan would be healed by love as much as by healers, intimating that perhaps love itself should not be automatically forbidden, but accepted when accepted by the Force itself.

Mace automatically distrusted love, much as he distrusted any emotion not carefully channeled into the Force. He was no stranger to physical love, but his relationships served a purpose other than romantic.

Yet from what Yoda had informed him about Obi-Wan's healing, he had to accept that love could indeed be a force for good, channeled positively and without thought of reward – he just doubted love could remain unselfish over the long term or could co-exist on equal terms with a love for all life that was a Jedi's love. Yoda had merely grunted and said he should speak with Obi-Wan, keeping an open mind and heart.

Putting his cup down, he laced his fingers and stared a bit quizzically at his fellow Jedi. "I understand Knight Tachi was quite instrumental in your recovery, and her help rather unconventional –" he paused, not sure just how to proceed and thus sounding a bit gruff.

"She gave me unconditional acceptance," Obi-Wan said. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes, a sign Mace recognized. Mace knew he would be totally honest with him, no matter the consequences, even if he seemed to be deliberating on how frank to be. "She gave without thought of herself – she gave me everything she thought I needed, and ended up giving me freedom. I'd still be struggling if not for her."

For the first time, Mace began to understand what Yoda had meant. It had been Obi-Wan's need to be worthy of Siri's gift that had allowed him the strength to face his demons, his need to be what she promised him he was to be who he was.

"She gave you her love, as you gave her yours." Mace added quietly, watching the interplay of emotions cross his friend's face as he nodded.

"I've loved her for years," Obi-Wan said simply. "Buried it so deep I didn't know it still existed – until it was all I had to hold onto. I'll deal with it, but I won't give it up, Mace."

"I'm not asking you to give it up, Obi-Wan." He wasn't, either, to his surprise. "Neither of you are kids and both of you are utterly devoted to the Force; that's not going to change. Even I see that. For all I know, the Force itself may have endorsed this rather unorthodox method of healing. Yoda seems to think so. So, make any decisions you make guided by the Force, not your heart or your mind or by what you think the Order requires."

*

Obi-Wan's eyes widened a bit, his only reaction. What he had thought a gift of the Force – could it be as well the Will of the Force? No, certainly not, for what were two lives of two people to the Force, its focus infinite and all-encompassing?

Without a word, Mace stood and walked to a holopic of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. He studied it for a moment and then spoke softly, "Qui-Gon, you neglected one aspect of your padawan's training. You never needed to teach him the words of the Code, but you never thought to teach him to look beyond it. That was a skill of yours, born of your connection to the Living Force and it chains him when it should guide him."

He turned and looked at his fellow Jedi, who sat with one eyebrow cocked quizzically.

"Have you ever thought why we swear our oaths to the Force, not to the Jedi code?"

"We serve the Force," Obi-Wan replied promptly.

"And the Code?"

"Guides us to our service."

Mace blew out a breath. "Qui-Gon Jinn always claimed that when he seemed to disregard the Council's voice it was only because he heard instead the Force's –

sometimes he was correct, yet sometimes he wasn't, no matter what he claimed. You tried to pull him into line more than once."

"So did the Council, as I recall."

"The Council never questioned Qui-Gon's commitment, only his interpretation of the Force's will and fierce insistence that he was the only one to hear it true, to the point of disregarding without due consideration the input of the Council and his own padawan at times. At times the Council refused him due consideration as well, I will admit. He had the respect of the entire Order even if his methods were often in question and his disregard of procedures sometimes lacking."

The man who had been his padawan and seen many of the legendary clashes merely cocked an eye. More often than not his mind had been with the Council even if his heart had been with his master.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but pay heed to the Force, not the Order. You have the potential to bridge both by Qui-Gon's training and your natural inclination."

"I'm not sure what it is you're saying."

"Force, Obi-Wan; Qui-Gon, for all his live in the moment philosophy, forgot to teach you the realities of a Jedi's life. I'm sure he expected to have time for that – perhaps after your knighting. Some things that are left unspoken are spoken at that time, a time he didn't have."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and said softly, "I've often wondered…." He fell silent as he opened his eyes and shrugged. He had often wondered what piece of wisdom his master would bestow on him at his knighting, what words of affection or guidance, perhaps a promise that although Obi-Wan was on his own now, he was not alone; that Obi-Wan could always come to him for advice.

Sitting up straight, he added with a smile, "He'd probably say much the same as I anticipate saying to Anakin. I have a better understanding of Qui-Gon now that I have my own padawan." He chuckled with a sudden memory. "There are things a master debates sharing with his padawan, and often decides not to with valid reason. I accepted that much more easily than Anakin; he simply does not understand why I sometimes keep silent."

Mace nodded. "I have noted that your padawan does not appreciate being treated with the rank he has, as if it is our means of diminishing him when such is not our intent.

"Not matter what façade we show the galaxy, being Jedi doesn't and shouldn't deny our nature. To not let our nature control us is why we control our emotions, even if the galaxy thinks we strive to eliminate them. We who are human are entitled to be human, as long as we remember we're Jedi first. Not exclusively, but first. I never thought I'd ever be encouraging any Jedi to be selfish once in a while, but I am now. Don't deny your feelings; I know you won't let them get in the way of your duty. In this, listen only to the Force and act accordingly."

"I can't go against my nature, Mace."

"Of course not. Just be open – to a possibly buried part of your nature. If it wishes to surface, accept it. That boy who felt everything deeply is still inside; integrate the man and the boy as well as the Jedi. Come away from the horror you went through with a deeper understanding and acceptance of the human side of you. Grow from one of the best Jedi in the Order to just about the best there is."

Stunned, Obi-Wan could only stare at Mace.

_He speaks truth, Padawan, listen_. A Force ghost chuckled. _For once Mace and I agree_.


	5. A Sparring We Will Go

**Chapter 5. A Sparring We Will Go **

Obi-Wan was in no hurry to rise. He woke refreshed; another night free of nightmares and free of the gripping fatigue that had so plagued him. Today he was free of healers' tests and Obi-Wan had the whole day stretching unbroken before him, a rare treat for a Jedi.

He stretched, lazily contemplating what to do. The restrictions on his movements within the Temple had been removed; he was free to spend the day however he wished. Obi-Wan propped himself against his pillow and let his eyes wander, only to stop on a familiar object. Anakin's words from the day before echoed in his head: "We all have our lightsabers – we can spar." The words had been incorrect, though Anakin had apparently not noticed that Obi-Wan had not worn his since his return.

For a moment a little chuckle escaped him as he remembered the unfortunate timing of that remark.

His lightsaber lay in its usual place of rest, close at hand. It drew his eyes, now, though a strange reluctance had come over him to actually wrap his hand around the hilt. Though his hands had long healed, he had not held it, let alone much else, since Rattatak. He hadn't needed to.

He ran a thumb over the hilt, then with a decisive movement wrapped his hand around it and hefted it. He shifted it from hand to hand, feeling it settle comfortably against his palm and let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

He would have to resume training to get back into physical shape, for too long his muscles had been little used – rebuilding, but still weak from lack of use. Therapy had helped keep them limber, at least, but lack of stamina was his next obstacle to overcome.

Only by now looking to what was behind him, and what lay ahead of him, could he truly see just how bad a shape he'd been in – mentally, physically, and emotionally.

With Obi-Wan's naming of his deepest fear – and the knowledge that the dark terrors that had lurked in his mind were terrors imposed on him and not the creation of his own subconscious, he slept untroubled most nights. He was warned that he might suffer nightmares sporadically for months, perhaps years, but that the frequency and severity would decrease over time.

He still had flashbacks as well, but Cielan had taught him mental and physical tricks to lessen the emotional impacts into blinked eyes or a caught breath. As long as they did not incapacitate him, he was not to worry, and Cielan worked with him on identifying and nullifying various triggers, one by one. She reassured him on that; there would be little things he had forgotten, capable of being woken by perhaps the most unexpected of things.

Cielan continued to retrain his mental and physical reflexes as well against unexpected reminders – even something as simple as a blown light to a tap on the shoulder. He was now capable of dealing with them as they arose, whether or not he had the Force to assist him.

Cielan and Neille were confident they were on the correct path to explaining – and correcting – Obi-Wan's Force connection. The key was the Sith mask, as Bant had forcefully and irritably explained to him.

"_Obi – you stubborn fool. By not giving us even a hint of what that mask did to you, you only made it worse for yourself and the rest of us who care about you! Anakin was worried to death about you, scared even –"_

"_Fear leads to –"_

_He was interrupted in his turn by a glare that was worthy of Mace Windu himself, a glare that might have made even Asajj Ventress cower._

"_-suffering, yes, and Anakin suffered, Siri suffered, and I suffered. You suffered. Needlessly. Oh, Obi." Her magnificent rage dissipated in a fierce hug that Obi-Wan was quick to return. _

He had a greater appreciation for his friends than ever before. He had once thought all he truly needed was the Force, but now he knew they were just another part of the Force in a more tangible form. Hence it didn't truly matter on some level on whether he connected to his friends or the Force.

Still, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Obi-Wan Kenobi, and so he would try not to burden his friends with things better left to the Force.

"You're getting lazy, Kenobi," he chided himself as he threw the covers aside and swung his legs to the floor. It was a good time to again test his newfound acceptance of what he had overcome, he decided, so he dropped his eyes to his chest and studied the fading scars with detached interest.

The smaller wounds were mere traces of white across his torso and barely noticeable. Only one wound stood out, the deepest wound that he had been sure was his death. He swallowed hard, remembering the sight of the hilt sunk in his chest, its metallic shimmer tarnished with the red of spurting – he ran his hands through his hair as he shook his head firmly - and let the memory go once again.

As he entered the training area, intent on a quiet workout, movement in one of the rooms with a transparent opening caught his eye. Mid-level padawans just a few years younger than his own padawan, and Siri was leading them through their paces.

With a grin, he settled himself and watched as Siri worked the padawans hard, pushing and cajoling. The improvement in their technique was remarkable. Meaning to comment, he moved to the doorway just as one of the padawans made a brilliant move and disarmed Siri.

The sound of his gentle laugh and applause brought all eyes to him. Siri's eyes brightened and she gave him a look that put him on his guard. The padawans were attentive, but he could almost see their thoughts in the flicker of their eyes:

_He was held captive, you know…wasn't he – he was - actually tortured – not just a prisoner…he seems to be recovering well…his padawan has got to be thrilled…_

"Master Kenobi, how nice of you to drop by. I see you have your lightsaber with you, have you dropped by to participate?"

"No," he admitted warily, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. "I was just passing by."

"But you were going to spar?"

"No, I was just going to run through some katas, perhaps work with a remote or two."

"Join us instead. I'm sure the class will learn something valuable from you."

_How to lose gracefully? I'm in no shape yet to hold my own_.

The pleas of the class gave him no out. There was no graceful way to decline; Siri was going to mop the floor with him, even if at this moment he had the Force with him. Whatever reputation he had as a swordsman was going to be demolished.

A lesson in humility hurt no one, he supposed.

"Knight Tachi." He bowed and unclipped his lightsaber and moved into a defensive stance. "Shall we?"

Siri didn't hesitate to take advantage of him, and he was hard-pressed to maintain the match beyond a few quick exchanges. His footwork suffered, especially as the still weak calf muscle wearied. Relying on the defensive style of Soresu meant waiting for one's opponent to err and taking advantage, but Siri wasn't making many mistakes. Those she did, he was unable to capitalize on.

With not even the stamina of an untrained initiate, the match went longer than he truly had expected, prolonged only by his maintaining that tight defensive position. Siri pressed him hard knowing his lack of endurance was his weakness. He knew it as well and knew he was tiring; she would break through his defenses shortly.

He decided on a bold move – bold for his current level of strength. With a quick switch to the acrobatic style of Ataru, the style of his youth, he flipped over Siri only to land hard and off balance.

_Not good_, he muttered under his breath.

So much for taking Siri off guard and ending the fight. Her eyes gleamed as she whirled and slashed at him. His blade intercepted hers only to be pressed back, closer to his own body.

He still had a few tricks up his sleeve; he just wished he had the strength to carry the battle forward. Quickly switching hands, his lightsaber swept under her descending arm as if to catch her in the ribs before stabbing forward at her neck.

"Nice move, Kenobi, but you're too slow." Siri smirked at him as she countered his move by flipping around his right – his unguarded – side.

He threw out a leg to catch her in mid-air and tumble her to the ground, his blade back in his right hand to tap her neck. It was a move that should have worked, had his body been working at its normal speed and efficiency.

Instead, Siri dropped him with a swift sweep of her own leg and stood with her blade teasing his throat. Her success at blocking his move came as no surprise. No, what surprised him was the panic that washed over him, _the hot sizzle of a lightsaber blade teasing his throat with a pale face and blazing eyes behind it…_he closed his eyes and swallowed the terrified cry stuck in his throat. Must everything remind him of – he had left all that behind.

He hastily conceded, forcing out a hoarse, "I yield," as he took several deep, calming breaths.

He opened his eyes to see Siri squinting down at him. _She knows, she knows. She saw it in my eyes. _They stared at each other as she sheathed her blade_._

"What the Force was that all about?" she hissed under her breath for only him to hear, but her eyes were concerned, not condemning. She hastily extended a hand which he quickly accepted.

With a quick squeeze in return, he stood with a whispered, "Later. Not now, please."

Only he would have recognized the look that crossed her face as guilt and understanding. She nodded once and faced the class.

Surprising him, she reminded the students that "Master Kenobi has been through a terrible ordeal as you know, and ordinarily puts up a better fight." She winked at him, and added, "It usually takes a bit longer to defeat the esteemed Council member."

_Right_! A quick grin crossed his face, his amusement easily picked up by the padawans, and they laughed as he bowed.

Siri's little quip had bought him more than enough time to center himself. For that, Obi-Wan was immensely grateful. It had taken but a moment, but a moment he could not afford in real battle. Cielan was right; he was not ready mentally to resume full duties as yet; he was now resigned to that.

The amusement of the students helped as well, restoring him to his normal calm demeanor, at least the illusion of that. Inner calm was slower to come, but it would come, he knew, as soon as his heart slowed and the adrenaline stopped surging though his body.

"While you're convalescing, Master Kenobi, feel free to drop in anytime and assist," Siri said, to the delight of the class.

"Not for a few days, at least," he replied easily, knowing how much that moment of pure panic had unsettled him. He wasn't ready for that kind of interaction with any Jedi, not yet. The mind healers were right on that score. He was even far from ready to face any remotes.

He wasn't going to mention this to the healers; he would handle it by himself with the techniques they had taught him. He was more than capable of facing whatever his memories chose to throw at him.

_Yeah, right, Kenobi_. The sardonic voice in his head spoke again. _The truth?_ _You froze, if for just a moment. You can't afford that. You were lucky it was Siri._ He shook his head, then sighed and nodded. That was the voice of truth that spoke to him. He would never turn away from the truth, so help him, no matter how painful. The sardonic voice softened with the Jedi's acceptance of the words to come.

_The truth – you are doing better. You are capable of facing those things you'd still rather not – but you still react first. You need to gain control of your reactions and reflexes. Then, and only then, can you consider yourself healed, for then you will feel no more pain and no more guilt_.

As he turned to leave he leaned forward and whispered, "I'm trying out a new dinner recipe tonight – come by for evening meal? Garen has to leave early tomorrow, so let's make it a reunion/farewell meal – it's a shame Reeft isn't on-planet to join us."

"Kenobi cooking? I love disasters, okay, I'm in."

"Good." He turned to the class and solemnly bowed before leaving as a rush of questions flew at Siri in his wake.

* * *

She knew just where to find him, on the bench under the Haleothe flowers. Deep in memories, perhaps; he seemed unaware of her presence, sitting in solitude, eyes closed. A slight breeze traced patterns of light and dark with brushes of leaves across his face, the shadows always in motion and chased by the light. In the dappled sunlight he seemed to be caressed with light.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"What's to tell?" Obi-Wan opened his eyes, shrugged, and made room for Siri to join him on the bench, as if not at all surprised she had sought him out. Elbows on his knees, he leaned his chin on linked fingers.

"Ever had a lightsaber so close to your face that the hair on your chin shrivels and the skin blister? You don't dare to take a breath, there's less than a finger's breadth between it and you; if you don't breath, you risk fainting from lack of air and know if you do you'll likely fall right into that lightsaber. Paradoxically, you're so cold that you almost want to bask in the heat."

"That explains that scar – there." Siri touched a spot on the tip of his chin, now covered by his beard. She marveled at his calm demeanor; other than his contemplative look into the past, he might have been speaking of anything.

"And a few other places as well – some you haven't seen and I don't expect you will. The worst scars, though, those are the ones you know – those are the ones you helped me to face. The ones inside." Obi-Wan turned to look at Siri for the first time. "Turn your lightsaber on, will you?"

"You want to spar here? You're crazy, you know." Siri stood, bringing her lightsaber upright before her.

"No one spars here," Obi-Wan chided. He stood and ignited his own and slowly extended his arm. Siri copied him; the two lightsabers crossed between them, humming as Obi-Wan stared into the brilliance. After a moment he clicked his lightsaber off, hung it back on his belt, and sat back down.

"O – kay, Kenobi, you want to explain?"

*

_Explain?_ The mind is indeed a strange thing, even the mind of a Jedi, Obi-Wan thought wryly. He hesitated, not sure at first how best to explain it, then gave her the simple truth.

"I took that memory and replaced it with another one, so it won't bother me again. I'd quite forgotten about it until you stood above me."

Cielan had warned him to expect moments like that. Little things would bring back memories, sudden onslaughts of pain or anger. Remembering lying on the floor in the training sale with Siri's saber at his throat and staring at her with his heart beating rather loudly in his ears, he knew exactly what she referred to.

He had intended to seek Siri out later that day, knowing he owed her an explanation, but she had sought him out first. She had come to him, and his heart swelled with gratitude that he had such a good friend, one who even now merely nodded and seated herself at his side. Siri, dear Siri – he remembered her kneeling at his side, promising a little girl that she would offer Obi-Wan all the kisses he needed to get better if little Caellya's kiss on a bearded cheek was not enough by itself to heal the Jedi's wounds.

"Thank you." He lifted a hand to her face and lightly caressed her cheek with a thumb, before standing and urging her to follow him by laying a hand on her arm. A sudden smile lighted up his face. "Come with me."

Without question, Siri accompanied him. He knew she had no clue where they were going or why, but she didn't protest or demand an answer. He had asked her to come, and come she would.

The wide halls were no busier than they had been, yet what had seemed empty and full of echoes of absent footsteps, were once more mere halls and not silent reminders of those away at war - with Siri at his side.

A smile teased at Obi-Wan's lips as he glanced at his companion, amused at the dawning awareness in her eyes. It had been a spur of the moment decision to come here.

"You haven't visited your little friend, yet, Kenobi?" Siri asked as their path led them to the crechling and initiates wing of the Temple.

"Oh, but I have," Obi-Wan said gravely, but his eyes were twinkling. "She wanted to know if I needed any more kisses to get well. With Master Daenar present, I restricted myself to telling her that I'd had all I needed and was quite well now."

"So, you don't need any more kisses, okay," Siri said, a mischievous grin spreading over her face. "Just like Garen, love 'em and leave 'em."

Startling Siri, Obi-Wan pulled her into a handy alcove and kissed her. "Preventative measures," he said calmly and before Siri caught her breath, he was resuming his walk. His stride loosened and his entire body seemed to relax the closer they got, for even well behaved Jedi younglings were still younglings and the sound of them at play was becoming distinct.

'You really like to be around kids." She quickened her pace to keep up with her fellow Jedi.

"Doesn't everyone?" Siri followed Obi-Wan into one of the common rooms where the chatter turned to squeals of delight as squirming four to six year olds tried to remember their manners and chime, "Hello, Mas'er Obi" under the attentive eye of Crèche Master Daenar.

"You timed it perfectly, Master Kenobi, Knight Tachi, for the children's story time."

"Don't I always?" The Jedi threw the Crèche master a pert smile, showing a familiarity with the crechlings routine, one that Siri remembered no longer. "Show time, Master Caellya." He scooped up the same gap-toothed young girl Siri remembered from before and peered closely at her finger, before declaring, "It's all healed – no kisses needed for that finger."

His disappointment was echoed by Caellya, who patted his face. "You healed, too, Mas'er Obi. You got enough kisses to make you better."

"I had my share, but yours was the one that fixed me up." Obi-Wan ruffled the girl's hair; then leaned closer to peer at her chin. "Didn't I tell you not to grow a beard?"

"Mas'er Obi, I'm a girl!" Her indignation was spoiled by a giggle.

"Oh, yes." He beckoned another boy over, the same one who had been adamant on setting the adults straight that "Mas'ers don't kiss each other," reminding the adult Jedi there was to be "no 'tachments."

"Master Jerod," he examined the boy's smooth cheeks as well, " – have _you_ shaved your beard today?"

Jerod nodded vigorously. Siri hid a smile, not sure if she was more amused by the younglings, or the big youngling. Obi-Wan saw, however, and threw her a wink.

"Would you like to hear a story? Knight Tachi taught me this one." The Jedi grinned as the children huddled around him, trying to be the ones to sit next to him, for those were the lucky ones who were able to lean against him and have an arm around their shoulders. After the jostling for position settled down, he started.

"A long time ago in another world far from here there lived a teacher. He didn't have many possessions, but he had all that he needed. He had food enough to eat, shelter to keep him warm and dry, and friends to make him laugh. He enjoyed his job very much because he liked to help people all over this world."

"Was he a Jedi knight?"

"Oh, no, he was just a man. One doesn't have to be a Jedi to like to help others though it makes it easier, but there is a knight in the story, and this knight saved the teacher. I haven't got to that part of the story yet."

"Quiet, Jarod, I want to hear the story."

"In another country there was a woman who had been terribly hurt when young – she had been left all alone and hadn't been taught proper manners. Because of this she wasn't nice to people and so a lot of people didn't like her. She felt bad because no one liked her. What do you think she did then?"

"Cry?"

"Hit someone?"

"Be even meaner!"

"Yes, Master Kyyle, she was even meaner to people because she didn't know it was her bad manners that made everyone avoid her. She just thought they were mean. So she kidnapped our teacher and tried to teach him bad manners, so she would have a friend."

"Mean people are lonely?"

"Sometimes," Obi-Wan agreed, "but they often just haven't been taught how to be nice. This made the teacher sad, and he decided rather than learn her bad manners so that everyone would hate both of them, he would teach her nice manners…."

"He's a good storyteller, and there's usually some message or moral hidden within," Daenar whispered softly to Siri as the two female Jedi sat across the room, engrossed in Obi-Wan's tale. "He's found a way to turn his terrible ordeal into a story for the younglings, hasn't he? I see the way you're watching him - you haven't seen Obi-Wan with kids that often, have you?"

"No," Siri admitted. "Poor Obi-Wan was struggling so hard to face and release his experiences, which he actually did that day, after our meeting you and the younglings in the hall. I thought my heart was going to break when Caellya asked him if he cried when it hurt and he couldn't even say 'yes,' he just nodded mutely. Then when she kissed him on the cheek to 'make it better,' Force, I had tears in my eyes."

"As did I. I remember a very young Obi-Wan doing something similar once, then to see him all grown up and in pain, and another youngling trying to comfort him," Daenar half-laughed as she brushed a hand across her eyes. "All of my charges are very special to me, even when they're grown – and Obi-Wan has always been easy to be fond of; he's always been a warm hearted boy under that reserved exterior of his."

"It took me a while to see what was underneath," Siri admitted, remembering how his calm authority had chafed her, a padawan who was oh-so-perfect when in fact his perfection was his shield to hide his very human imperfections. "Stubborn, opinionated, and kind; the friend who you can't help but love even when he drives you crazy."

"You do know him well."

With smiles at each other, both Jedi turned their attention back to the storyteller.

"The teacher managed to escape from the woman with the bad manners, but he had, ah, learned bad manners despite his best efforts not to. He grew cranky and ill-tempered and shouted at other people. He was scared he would push his friends away so he was also sad. This made him hurt inside, and the more he hurt, the worse his manners became."

"Just like the mean woman."

"In a way, yes."

"The poor teacher - when does the knight show up?" Caellya whispered.

"Well, in a way she was always with him, here," he touched his head, and "here." He touched his heart and paused, clearing his throat and nodding ever so slightly as the younglings hung on every word, some mimicking the touches and one even patting the Jedi's chest gently as if to trying to feel the "friend" supposedly inside.

Siri's heart almost melted and her eyes grew soft as Obi-Wan laughed, turned the child around and sat him on one knee. The story continued.

"One of the teacher's best friends was a knight and she was one of the first people he saw when he came home. She didn't care if he now had bad manners, even though he told her if she didn't like his bad manners she should just go away because he didn't know how to behave anymore. She knew who he truly was, that inside he was still the same man who wanted to teach everyone good manners. So she, ah, made him sit in a corner and say I'm sorry every time he said something not nice. This went on for a long time, but she didn't give up on the teacher."

"Because she was his friend," Kyyle said, nodding wisely.

Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to meet Siri's and there was a smile in them, just for her. He nodded as he returned his attention to his apt audience, spinning his tale of a young man who had been grievously hurt, and healed by the friendship and affection of a childhood friend who had never stopped believing in him.

"Yes, because she was his friend and she believed in him. She knew who he was, even if he didn't. She didn't give up on her friend and because of her that teacher remembered his good manners and started teaching them to other people as well."

"And Wookiees?"

"Oh, yes, and Banthas and Jawas, too. And because he remembered what it felt like to have bad manners and how he then hurt others to hide his own hurt, he decided that one day he would go back to the lady with the bad manners and teach her good manners so she would stop hurting. Then she would be nice to other people and maybe other people would start to like her and be her friend. You see, this man of few possessions discovered he was very rich after all. Do you know what he had that was so precious?"

"Friends," the younglings chimed together.

"Yes. It wasn't anything he owned, you see, but it was something he could never lose because it would always be with him – the friendship of the knight and all his other friends, as well." Obi-Wan nodded, before adding very softly, "He was a very lucky man."

Master Daenar looked at Siri and patted her hand. "He's talking about you, dear; you've been a good friend to Obi-Wan, and I can see he is very grateful to you."

"You know there's not a friend of his who wouldn't do whatever they could for him." After a moment she added, "He's really good at giving of himself, but he's not so good at taking for himself. Next to his stubbornness, it's his biggest flaw."

"Yes, indeed, but a lot of that comes from his need to atone for past mistakes, as he sees it. After Melida/Daan he did his best to mold himself into the 'perfect padawan' and nearly succeeded – at the cost of nearly losing who he really was. Force knows the man isn't perfect – the stories I could tell – and won't; you probably know them anyway. He's a good man, though; always has been. Good men earn good friends and they make good friends in return."

"He was just the friend I needed once, too, long ago, when I returned from an undercover mission – my first as a knight. I needed him more than I knew, so I knew just how badly he needed me – I'd do anything for him."

She offered a mischievous grin at the Jedi who proclaimed he did not believe in luck, as she surreptitiously brushed her eyes. "Luck, Master Kenobi?" she called out.

Obi-Wan ducked that rather deftly. "One creates one's opportunities, but luck creates friends."

_Oh, no, Kenobi_, Siri thought; offering him a smile, not a rebuttal. _Not luck at all. You earned them_.


	6. Getting One's Just Desserts

**Chapter 6.** **Getting One's Just Desserts**

Mace Windu was not happy. The com call he had just concluded rankled him as he strode into the Council chamber.

As much as a Jedi could fume, Mace Windu was fuming. One would think the Chancellor's office had been granted oversight of the Jedi Order; the way the Senate was happily voting more and more power to his hands, happy to abdicate responsibility, it wouldn't be long.

"Palpatine wishes to meet with us to review our handling of the war," he repeated darkly as Yoda stared quietly at him, clawed hands lightly gripping his gimer stick. "I don't like some of his insinuations."

"Supreme Chancellor he is," Yoda pointed out.

"He wants to see Skywalker rewarded for his handling of the Jabiim evacuation with a command of his own – and a promotion. He thinks we undervalue the boy."

"Hmm, know this I do." A finger scratched an ear as Yoda sighed. "A boy he is not; a man he is still becoming. Much rests on his shoulders – yet ready he is not. He still needs a master, yes, a mistake to separate him from Obi-Wan it would be. A team they are, a team they should remain."

No one disputed Yoda. After a moment, Ki-Adi-Mundi broke the silence.

"I think it's past time we announce Master Kenobi's safe return," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. "There's no reason not to, not any longer, and the news is sure to leak accidentally. We could ask Padmé Amidala or Bail Organa to make an announcement in Senate."

"No." Sleepy eyes opened wide as Yoda leaned forward. "Better to ask the Chancellor to meet with us and to ask him to announce it. Better politically, and an interest in Master Kenobi the Chancellor has had since Naboo."

"Though more so in Skywalker," Adi put in thoughtfully.

**

"Are you what's on the menu tonight?" Padmé pounced on her husband from behind and wrapped her arms around his neck as he came through the door of her apartment.

"I am," Anakin drawled with a wink, turning and sweeping his wife into his arms for a passionate kiss. "Garen is leaving, so Obi-Wan wanted a night to get the old gang together, minus only Reeft. I offered to remove myself from the scene and said when I got hungry I would find some agreeable way to satisfy my hunger."

He placed tender kisses on Padmé's neck, nuzzling his face into her shoulder as he worked his way down to her shoulders, his hands trying to find a breach in her clothing to allow him access to skin he found unbelievably soft. Finding none, he slipped his hands through the hair on the nape of her neck and kissed the spot behind her ears that made her tremble and shudder in abandonment to his touches, only this time she slipped away from his hands with a provocative wink and seated herself at the table.

"You're going to need all your energy a bit later, lover, so let's satisfy one hunger before another."

Anakin's eyes brightened, for while he preferred to take the lead in their relationship, it might be rather fun to let Padmé set the pace for the evening, and by her low purr, he had no doubt it was going to be a far more interesting evening than his master and friends had planned.

"And don't stuff yourself by swallowing as fast as you can – you're just going to have to wait for dessert, Padawan Skywalker." Padmé smiled sweetly and turned the subject to something Anakin had hoped to escape for one evening – Obi-Wan. "How's Obi-Wan doing now?"

"Must we talk about him, Angel?" he entreated. With a leer he thought was the epitome of seductiveness, he murmured in a throaty growl, "All I can think about is you, your hair loose and undone, spread like a silken cloud over a pillow, your arms reaching to me as you surrender to our passion –"

"Anakin!" Padmé speared him with a look that promised he'd get the same treatment as the piece of meat waving on her utensil. "Social conversation during dinner and – no talking after that for there's far better uses for your lips." She treated him to a roguish wink that restored his good humor.

"Now, I ask about Obi-Wan and you answer me, and then we're both happy – he's my friend just as he is yours, so allow me my concern. When will I be able to see him?"

No matter how soft the skin that clothed her, Padmé had a spine of durasteel and a stubborn will equal to her husband's. It took more energy to fight her than to admit defeat, so Anakin bowed to the inevitable.

"When the Council decides he's officially alive." He swallowed a bite of food before admitting, "I don't know why it's this big secret; I have to believe they'll release the news shortly. He's still having problems accessing the Force, he still tires easily, and he may still have the occasional nightmare from time to time, but otherwise he's fine and just needs to regain his stamina and strength. Does that satisfy you, Angel of My Heart?"

"Until I see him for myself, yes. Ani – I went to his funeral, then you tell me weeks later he's alive but in bad shape, so bad he cried in your arms at least once, even if it was just a nightmare."

The memory of that night stabbed at Anakin's heart, cementing a wish that had been building for some time. It was nothing he wanted to do; it was something he had to do.

"Angel." Anakin toyed with his food. He knew Padmé was not going to like what he had to say, so he searched for a way to soften it. "I'm going to ask the Council to send me on a reconnaissance mission. Obi-Wan is pretty much recovered now; he doesn't need me. I want nothing more than to spend time with you while my master is Temple-bound, yet I know it's likely the Chancellor or the Council will find something for me to do once my leave is up. I'd rather create my own mission, something meaningful. I want to search for Ventress; she hurt Obi-Wan, she hurt me through Obi-Wan, and she hurt you and the Chancellor by hurting the war effort."

He saw Padmé close her eyes as if dealing with an internal blow she wished to hide. When she opened her eyes, she reached for his hand and held it within hers. Her gaze was firm and steady, though sad.

"Will they let you – is it even wise? Wouldn't it be better to send someone else?"

"Who else, my darling wife?" He spoke a bit absently, trying to stifle the fury he could feel trying to batter its way out from behind iron shields. His gaze hardened. "I have the right and the responsibility. It was my master she hurt, _my_ master. I will not let that go."

**

"After you, pretty lady." Quite accidentally on purpose, Garen put a hand on Siri's back as Obi-Wan's door opened to admit them, sending Siri stumbling forward into Obi-Wan's arms. "Oops, sorry."

"He means well," Obi-Wan said, setting Siri back on her feet. He threw a glare at his friend as Garen merely smirked. "Say 'sorry, Siri.' Bant's here already." He inclined his head to indicate the Mon Calamarian behind him.

"Sorry, Siri, Bant's here already," Garen said obediently. 'Ow."

"My foot slipped when Obi-Wan caught me and stood me back on my feet." Siri smiled sweetly.

"On my foot, Tachi."

"On your foot," she agreed. "Better than my elbow in those brown eyes of yours, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan turned to Bant and announced, "The crèchlings have arrived, as you hear." It was his turn to wince when Garen and Siri each lightly pinched an arm. "Save me Bant."

"That's your padawan's duty, isn't it Obi?" Bant shook her head and came to Obi-Wan's side. "Okay, okay, it's just like being back in the Crèche - the two troublemakers, the ineffective peace keeper, and me, the healer. All three of you, behave."

At the two Jedi's exchange of looks and nod of agreement, Bant dived behind Obi-Wan. "You have to go through him to get me."

"Ah, but I'm ineffective," Obi-Wan drawled, evading Bant's grasp as the healer squealed. He reached out and pulled Bant to him with a quick laugh as her eyes widened, especially since he planted her firmly in front of his body as if a shield. "You haven't needed protecting in decades, but old habits are hard to break, so I'll just ignore what you said about me. Bant's right; you'll have to go through me."

"Darn," Siri muttered. "Any other time, maybe, but you're still on medical leave. Garen, we're stymied."

"Actually, I'm hungry." He sniffed and smiled approvingly. "Smells good, Obi. I'm glad to know you no longer burn water."

"Guess who just earned clean up duty for that crack."

The rest of the evening passed quite pleasantly for all, even to the water fight that developed during the clean up, though Obi-Wan called an end to it before anyone got too wet – no one was in any hurry to end the evening.

**

Padmé stood up to clear the table but Anakin's arm snaked around her waist as he pulled her into his lap and kissed her soundly.

She dropped the dishes back onto the table and wrapped her arms around him in return. "I want my reward for slaving over a hot unit all afternoon," she purred, giving Anakin a kiss that took both their breaths away.

"Padmé," Anakin murmured, lifting her into his arms and taking a step towards their bedroom, only to have the com station chirp. "Ignore it," he whispered as Padmé twisted in his arms.

"I can't – I've been expecting that call – it's just Bail about the latest legislation."

"But Angel, nothing is as important as two people in love wanting to get reacquainted after a long absence – it's been hours. I need you. You can call Bail back."

"Ani, you know I'm most alive while in your arms, but we do have lives in the real world. I care about what happens there. It won't take long, and then I'll turn the unit to 'not available' and you'll have as much of me as you can handle. Now put me down."

"Fine," Anakin grumbled, sitting Padmé back on her feet and crossing his arms in disappointment.

"Why don't you fix dessert while you wait?" she called over her shoulder as she sat down. It took a few minutes longer than expected; she finally sighed in relief when Bail ended the call. _A politician's job is never done_, she muttered as she turned around –and stared at the apparition in front of her.

"Oh. My." She giggled and made a dive for the cream covered dessert – her husband, lounging in the doorway wearing little more than a grin and artfully placed swirls.

**

The four friends lounged comfortably in various seats; all loathe to separate despite the lateness of the hour. It was rare to have time together and once they separated, none of them knew how long until they would all be together again. Bant leaned against Obi-Wan's shoulder; across the room Siri amused herself by tossing bits of fruit to Garen who did his best to catch them with his mouth as Bant and Obi-Wan merely watched, amused.

"This is what we're fighting for," Obi-Wan said suddenly. "What we have right now – spending time with friends, at peace. Sometimes it seems we come perilously close to forgetting what we're fighting for – but this is what we fight for," he swept his arm out to include his friends, "for everyone."

Siri plopped next to Obi-Wan's other side as his arm came around her and he hugged both women.

"That's as good a send off as any," Garen said, coming over to stand before Obi-Wan. The four Jedi linked hands. "I really should leave. You old gundark – take care. It hurt to lose you once – I don't want to be hurt again, so take care of yourself, okay? It puts lines on my pretty face." He pulled Obi-Wan into a quick hug and release.

"I've got duty in – just a few hours," Bant exclaimed, checking the chrono. "Come on, Garen, you need some shut eye before leaving, as do I. Obi can sleep in, so he can stay up as long as he wants. What about you, Siri?

"In a moment, I'm going to steal some leftovers before that walking appetite he calls a padawan returns to finish it off. Yes, Kenobi, I'll admit it, dinner was passable and dessert – truly a gift of the Force, not a dish by the hand of man."

"Hey, explain the dishes I scrubbed and the subsequent wrinkles," Garen held out his hands for inspection, only to be ignored.

After a last exchange of hugs and well wishes, Bant and Garen left. Siri sat down rather than moving to the small kitchen. "Sit, Kenobi." Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow at her.

"Stubborn man." She humphed and pulled him down next to her.

"Planning on staying, are you?" he inquired innocently.

"Not for long. I just wanted to say something." Siri fidgeted and then raised a hand to Obi-Wan's face and traced the line of his jaw. "What you said about peace – I saw it in your face. Peace. You survived something horrible, but you have truly found peace."

"Thanks to you." He lifted a hand to her face and leaned in for a kiss. He was a bit breathless when he pulled away and stood up. "You'd better go – I think I have some dreams to indulge in."

"Reality can be much better than dreams –" she murmured as he moved into the kitchen.

"There's less calories in dreams." He looked over his shoulder and gave her a grin before turning back to wrap some food for her.

"Why, Kenobi? Are you implying I'm sweet, rich and sinfully delicious in person?"

Siri was leaning on the table with a mischievous grin on her face when he turned to face her.

"Not at all." He held up the spoon he was using to transfer dessert to a dish and winked at her. "I'm referring to this, of course. Any Jedi that dared call you sweet had best be prepared for a swift take down; as for rich," he snorted, "Siri, we're Jedi."

"But you do think I'm sinfully delicious?" She batted her eyes at him.

Obi-Wan eyed her warily; there were any number of body parts he wished to retain, and the wrong answer might result in the removal of one of them. He cleared his throat and tucked his fingers behind his back. "Wouldn't know – anything you wish to tell me?"

He tried to back away as Siri made a move, yelping as she grabbed his collar and pulled him forward. Before he could make up his mind to duck or retaliate, she wrapped her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against him and kissed him. He sighed quietly: sinfully delicious, indeed, but there was no way he was going to let her know. She released him and laughed.

"So tell me, what's more delicious – me, or this?" She dipped a finger into the dessert and offered her finger; her look dared him to lick it off. He groaned to himself and gave in to necessity.

His eyes widened in true appreciation – the flavors had had more time to intermingle and the rich aroma of vanilla and cinnamon was, he had to admit, sinfully delicious as well. More damaging to his waistline, but infinitely safer.

"Mmm, it's a close call. Dessert was good, very good indeed. Yes, indeed, I'll dream about that."

Siri's eyes narrowed. "You live dangerously, Kenobi. After that kiss I gave you - you speak of dreaming about food?"

"That's my story."

"Well, it was pretty darn good, but dream worthy?"

In answer, Obi-Wan offered her a spoonful of dessert before putting it away. Siri smiled beatifically as the rich flavor hit her tongue, clearly agreeing with Obi-Wan's assessment.

"You're right. Sinfully wonderful; I'll dream about this dessert all night long."

Obi-Wan touched her lips with a finger as he offered her the plate of food from the other hand with a teasing "I won't." With a mischievous wink, Obi-Wan ushered her to the door.


	7. In War There Are No Winners

**Chapter 7. In War There Are No Winners **

"I'm delighted, absolutely delighted," Palpatine beamed at the Jedi Council. "This is wonderful news, wonderful indeed. But where is Master Kenobi, then?" His eyes roamed around the Council chamber in inquiry, face creasing in confusion at the afore-mentioned Jedi master's absence.

"The healers have not cleared him to resume his duties as yet. He is essentially well, but still recovering."

"Dear me. Master Gallia," the Chancellor inclined his head politely in her direction, "it is my sincere hope his presence will soon grace this august body. Do give him my best wishes; I have followed his career with great interest since he helped free Naboo, he and young Anakin both."

"I'm sure he will be gratified," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. "The well wishes of his friends and colleagues have contributed greatly to his recovery."

"I am sure of it. A man such as he would hold no ill feelings for being, ah, 'abandoned' for dead. You had me quite convinced of his death, as I have often thought that the Jedi are infallible. It seems only his padawan was convinced he was still alive; not even he could convince this Council otherwise. The young man was quite upset at not being allowed to mount a rescue attempt. So young Anakin did save Master Kenobi after all?"

"He did not," Mace said quietly. The Chancellor looked bewildered.

"But you said he was," he looked as if even saying the word hurt him, "tortured and held captive. How then did he get free?"

"By being who he was," Adi offered gently. 'Perseverance and brains."

"Ah, indeed. Do you know who so terribly mistreated the poor man?"

"A woman associated with Count Dooku – an Asajj Ventress."

"I have heard of her – a formidable opponent, for even his padawan found her difficult to fight, though _he_ escaped essentially unscathed from that encounter. I refer, of course, to Anakin's courageous battle with her on Yavin."

For the first time, a heretofore-silent voice spoke up firmly. "A battle he should not have been engaged in. Ignored his master's command he did; lucky Padawan Skywalker was to escape with merely a scar near his eye. A whole company of clone troops died there."

The Chancellor held up a hand in sorrowful contradiction.

"They would not have died had Master Kenobi trusted his padawan – sending them as backup proved unnecessary and a waste of fine young lives. We have discussed this before, Master Yoda, Masters. I did then and I do now commend Padawan Skywalker's initiative and battle instincts. He consistently proves his capabilities over and over, just as he proved on Jabiim. I must say I do not see why you refuse to acknowledge this and give him the promotion he deserves."

"Battle is not the only way to prove one worthy of knighthood, Chancellor. War does not make one great – or a Jedi. Knighthood is earned by facing the trial of oneself," Plo Koon said, speaking for the first time. "We grant his Force skills make him ready, but we agree he is not yet ready in other ways equally important."

"Well, you know best, I'm sure, though I admit that I am pleased you didn't censure Master Kenobi for his ill-advised actions at that time – he made the command decision he thought best even though in hindsight he sacrificed troops we could not afford to lose."

Looking around, he met only polite gazes that gave no hint of the Council's thoughts. "By the way, how long did you say Master Kenobi has been back?"

There was a gleam in the Chancellor's eye that Mace did not like, though not to the same degree as his prior words.

It had been Skywalker's hasty and ill-advised actions that had been questioned – his deliberate and willful ignorance of a direct order, pursuing a personal goal over a tactical goal. The padawan had admitted as much, though he had made the argument that it was a decision that would have been heralded as heroic had it succeeded.

Had it been successful, the matter might have been allowed to escape the Council's official notice. Under the circumstances, it was only in deference to the Chancellor's personal intervention that the matter was allowed to drop.

He steepled his fingers together and said evenly, "Some time; he has been recovering. Initially we were not sure if he would recover or to what degree. Only recently have the healers confirmed they expect him to make a full recovery. With that report, out of courtesy we of course contacted your office."

"My dear friends, I didn't mean to imply…, dear me, no." Palpatine raised his hands in horror. "When will you make the announcement – and how? After all, your Order did give him up for dead despite his deserved reputation for consistently managing to escape death every time it stalks him."

"What would you suggest, Chancellor?" Mace leaned back and relaxed. "It was your idea to hold a state funeral – perhaps your office would like to make the announcement, after all, it was you who announced his death in the first place."

"But surely?" Palpatine looked confused.

"Trusted you are." Yoda blinked at the Chancellor. "Know how best to aid the war effort you will know. Politicians we are not, for you is this task best suited."

"Well, if you say so. I suppose my office could draft a statement and give you the courtesy of reviewing it. We could announce it at the start of the new Senate session – that's only a few days off. Yes, a good time – work it into my speech – give the citizens hope. The war is in good hands – Skywalker and Kenobi fight once more for the Republic. Perfect – a lovely morale booster."

"Trust a politician to find the perfect venue," Mace agreed politely. He stood; a subtle indication the meeting was concluded. The Council members arose as well. Once the man was out of the Council chambers, Mace turned and swept a look around the Council members. "He was so pleased he quite forgot to address our 'shortcomings' in the last few battles, saving us an argument about inadequate intelligence and late arriving resupplies. Wise idea, Adi, to present him with this 'political plum.'"

"Let us never forget this 'political plum' is more than simply that – he's a colleague, a Jedi."

"I know, Adi, I know. But this solves one of our problems and frees us to deal with the next order of business. Do we need a break before we start?"

**

Undeterred by duty elsewhere, Obi-Wan kept busy visiting the younglings and the elderly, reconnecting to those as yet untouched by war. He saw for himself the few knights and masters around to drop in on older initiate classes or training – the resignation of those not far from thirteen and knowing their time at the Temple was fast drawing to an end.

Extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures; he was in full agreement with Yoda with respect to changes to Jedi training, at least in part and least in the short term. Such changes had to be temporary until and unless proven effective, unless time-honored methods could be adapted successfully to the needs of the time.

So much an apprentice learned by a master's ability to _show_ some aspect of the Force not easily explained by word or demonstration alone. Without the bond, much training was cumbersome and difficult – but perhaps not impossible. The ability to create the bond between master and padawan was the direct reason for the rule of one master to one padawan, that and the intensive time to train.

Time the Order no longer had.

**

From time immemorial, Jedi had been in the thick of natural disasters or civil insurrection, conflicts and catastrophes. In such stressful situations, passions and emotions ran high - shock, grief or hatred predominating. This, the Jedi understood and were trained to deal with.

Yet centuries of immersion in such had not prepared them to understand the full range of fury and outrage that was building in worlds that had borne the brunt of the war to date. Jabiim had left no witnesses; battles elsewhere had left shell-shocked citizens numb in salvation or unknown in defeat.

Humanitarian efforts had to be left largely to others; in this war, the Jedi were soldiers, defenders of the Republic. Once a battle was won, or a battle lost, the Jedi moved on, leaving reconstruction to the local and galactic government: politicians who often preferred posturing to action. Rage swelled in their wake.

The Jedi did what little they could, when they could. They sent teams, masters with padawans not quite of age to fight, to assess, report and assist if possible. There were not enough teams and too many worlds in need of assistance.

Coruscant and the inner planets were still considered perfectly safe for Jedi without undue precaution, danger downplayed and unforeseen elsewhere – indeed, as a rule most Jedi did not even consider themselves to be any more of a target than in pre-war days. Yet on some planets, ravaged by war, citizens worn by grief and pain were at a vibroblade's edge of turning against any they saw as complicit in their planet's anguish.

On one planet, for the first time, vocal unrest had exploded into violence.

A newly arrived master/padawan pair became the first known victims of righteous rage; the padawan had been severely injured when the two were surrounded and stoned by angry citizens. Chants of "baby killers" had rung out as the apprentice crumpled in a bloody heap to the ground, stomped and beaten until local law enforcement came to the team's assistance.

Those guilty of the assault considered it only fair, a down payment on far too many young lives lost when a local school had been demolished by a stray dropped bomb. No one knew which side had let loose the bomb; the citizens hadn't cared.

The Republic and the CIS were both to blame – and woe to the first representative from either side they saw. A war had taken their children, and blood sought blood – any blood in retaliation.

A newly arrived Jedi padawan had made a perfect target.

**

A cold wind whipped cloaks around the legs of the waiting Jedi; the gray sky in contrast to the lights of the hangar.

Obi-Wan waited in the hangar with Mace Windu and Bant, his arms tucked deep in his cloak as he huddled within its warmth. He as yet chilled easily; beside him, Mace stood unmoving. They waited silently yet patiently.

Obi-Wan had volunteered to be there, and somewhat reluctantly Mace and Yoda had agreed, but only because Obi-Wan held firm. He would be there as part of his recovery and he would be there for a fellow Jedi. His sheer resoluteness, or "stubbornness" as Yoda muttered disapprovingly, won the disagreement.

When he had stood here last, he stood on unsteady legs and near fallen into Siri's arms when the strength that had seen him walk from the shuttle had all but given out. Here his heart had bid him to give voice to the feelings that had sustained him during the long weeks. He had expected it to be perhaps the last expression of it before reality silenced him once more.

Instead of disapproval, he had found encouragement. He had not questioned too deeply, at first, needing what was so freely offered. With his recovery all but complete, it would soon be time to resolve the conflict between duty and self.

Duty had him here, but more than duty alone, for he had faced a similar return. He was here because he could be here; a fellow Jedi deserved to be greeted by a familiar face. He was allowed few duties as yet; this duty was one he could and would easily fulfill.

A flash of light against transparisteel directed his eyes upward, and Obi-Wan quickly straightened.

The med shuttle touched down and the medics emerged with a grav stretcher holding the injured padawan, looking wan and fragile, bruised eyes striking in contrast to the bandages enwrapping his skull. Bruises marred the still smooth cheekbones and one arm was tightly splinted.

A soft "Dear Force," escaped Obi-Wan, almost too low to be heard.

Mace and Bant both moved closer to Obi-Wan and both glanced at him in concern, but the Jedi's innate compassion for others had prompted the nearly inaudible exclamation. The distress both sensed was for the injured padawan, not for awoken memories.

"Welcome home, Padawan" Mace said formally, as the padawan's eyes fluttered open.

Obi-Wan placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him still as Bant leaned over him to assess his condition. "Lie still now, just take it easy and let the healers take care of you, okay, Padawan? Master Windu has a message for you."

Mace was already prepared; a small hologram of Master Kulik stood in his palm observing from far away in silent concern.

"Listen to Master Kenobi, my padawan. You know I wish to be at your side, but duty demands otherwise. I am with you in spirit and Master Kenobi has graciously promised to be my surrogate. Concentrate on healing and I will be at your side shortly." She turned her attention to Obi-Wan, standing at her padawan's side.

"Master Kenobi, you have my deepest gratitude for volunteering to stand in for me. May the Force keep you well."

"I shall care for your padawan as if he were my own," was his soft response.

"Then I shall have a few less worries."

Obi-Wan bowed as the image flickered out.

He noted Bant's soft sigh of satisfaction as she added a few note to her datapad; the Jedi master turned back to the padawan and smiled in reassurance.

Obi-Wan could not even imagine how it would feel sending Anakin away to heal while remaining behind. It was one thing to be separated by missions and responsibilities, but if Anakin were seriously injured he knew he would wish to stay by his side, as he had done after Geonosis. Once he had been allowed to leave his own bed, he had claimed a chair at his padawan's side.

Someday, much as he hoped otherwise, he might have to learn just how it felt.

Only war would separate a master from an injured padawan, or the reverse.

Were this an injury incurred in the course of a normal pre-war mission, the team itself would be recalled and a replacement team sent. There were few such missions nowadays, only war and war-related missions. War demanded much of the Jedi, and duty often superseded personal desire. An injured Jedi was evacuated if needed, not the team, like any soldier who was detached from his unit to recover, yet Obi-Wan found it hard to believe such was the will of the Force.

It was the need of the moment, and on this the Force was silent.

**

A slight rustle and moan from the bed brought Obi-Wan's eyes up. He put his datapad down on a bedside table and clasped the padawan's hand between his own to keep the awakening young man grounded.

"M…Master Kenobi?"

"Terzah – sometimes the best diplomatic tactic is to turn tail and run," the Jedi offered with a small smile.

"Yes, sir," was the confused reply. "But I wasn't there to negotiate anything…."

"Sometimes the best tactic in any situation is to remove oneself from the situation, even in an tactical assessment and evaluation mission. If one can." A dry smile accompanied the words as Terzah blinked. "I learned that the hard way as it seems you have as well. How are you feeling?"

A hand behind his back helped Terzah sit upright against his pillow as Obi-Wan offered a glass of water with his free hand. "Not too much, too fast," he cautioned.

"You sound like Master Kulik." The young man twisted his fingers and added hurriedly, "Sir."

"It's one of the lessons taught to masters, along with scowls, glares and stern looks." Obi-Wan chuckled. "Well, at least I think so. I learned on the job with Anakin. What worked for my master with me didn't work so well for me with Anakin."

Terzah tried to smile, but his battered face didn't quite allow it. "If you say so, sir. Thank you for being here with me – and sir, it's so good to see you well."

'It is good to be well." Obi-Wan admitted, smiling faintly.

Padawan Terzah had had the unenviable task of keeping the Order's records up to date, and after the war's start, of placing black bands on the nameplates of deceased Jedi. No Jedi had envied him the task, but Terzah had taken it seriously, considering it an honor to mark those who had sacrificed everything in the cause of peace.

"You know, Terzah, I believe you are the only Jedi known to have frightened Knight Tachi speechless. I'm not sure I've even managed that." The memory of Siri's face when she had told him of encountering Terzah on the way to his quarters, black band in hand and freezing in horror, just knowing the band was for Obi-Wan, brought a sad smile to his face. Siri had passed her reaction off as a joke, but her eyes had showed otherwise.

"Have you seriously tried, sir?"

"What – and risk life and limb?" he quipped. "Obviously you are not well acquainted with Knight Tachi. Though I believe I might have managed to silence her for all of a few seconds upon my own return; she did seem a bit at a loss for words."

"You did not look well, sir; I can believe that."

Terzah had been one of the two padawans charged with bringing a fast shuttle to Riflor, where each had brought Anakin's and Ki-Adi-Mundi's fighters back as the two Jedi returned Obi-Wan to the Temple to heal after he and Alpha had crash landed there.

The night before leaving for Jabiim had been spent tutoring the young man about a particularly complex treaty negotiation; one Obi-Wan had good reason to remember, mainly for the relief he had felt for surviving the long process still in full possession of his wits and sanity.

Obi-Wan glanced guiltily around and whispered, "It was get well and get out of here, or drive the healers to the point they would have finished me off themselves." Straightening back up, his joke having brought the response he wanted, he added, "As will you, Terzah. You're lucky to have a very nice mind healer who'll help with anything you need, just be honest with her and not stubborn like some Jedi -."

"Like certain stubborn Jedi masters who have apparently learned their lessons," Cielan interrupted from the open doorway. Terzah gazed curiously at the Jedi sitting by his side, who allowed himself to look affronted though his eyes were twinkling.

"You'll be rid of her much sooner if you work with her," Obi-Wan said with a warm smile, pretending to ignore the healer even as Cielan rolled her eyes as she laid a reassuring hand on the Jedi's shoulder. With a sidelong glance at the healer, he added, "So I've been advised, though that hasn't been proven yet."

"Still that impudent brat as Qui-Gon called you." Cielan only smiled as Obi-Wan shook his head. Terzah merely stared as if unable to envision the proper Jedi master – Council member – as an impudent brat.

"Sir," Terzah gulped. He drew a deep breath as the Jedi stood up to give the two some privacy. "I'd like you to stay, if you don't mind – since my master isn't here. I know it's a lot to ask – of a Council member, especially – but I, uh, know you."

With a quick look at Cielan and her accepting nod, Obi-Wan smiled and reseated himself.

"I'll be more than happy to stay."


	8. It's Not So Much What You Say

**Chapter 8. It's Not So Much What You Say**

"The Chancellor will be free in a moment, Master Skywalker." Anakin nodded absently, hands clasped behind his back as he waited patiently in the richly appointed, perhaps even sumptuous, some might say, antechamber to the Chancellor's public office. He knew he would not have long to wait. As a frequent and welcome visitor, Chancellor Palpatine had made it clear to his staff that Anakin Skywalker was to be granted access with minimal delay in almost all circumstances.

When the door opened to admit him, he strode in without ceremony. "In my private office, my boy," floated his way, so he crossed the large official office and paused in the doorway.

Palpatine seemed lost in thought, peering out the window with hands clasped behind him. He looked tired, shoulders slumped, Anakin thought. He wished the war didn't weigh on him as heavily as it seemed to in these unguarded moments. The Senate seemed to pass more and greater responsibility to the Chancellor's Office all the time, unable or unwilling to provide the vital leadership that Palpatine had willingly, if reluctantly, shouldered.

Only the Chancellor seemed able to see what had to be done and to then do what was necessary, but doing so took a toll on the man. Anakin mourned the weariness of spirit that few others saw, a weariness that Palpatine shed in his public role and wore only in private.

The young Jedi rarely pondered his good fortune to be on such good terms with the leader of the Republic. Ever since the then-Senator from Naboo and the nine-year-old "Hero of Naboo" had met, the older man had taken delight in their friendship. Finding it difficult to adjust to his place in the Jedi Order as the Jedi did their best as well to adjust to him, Anakin had eagerly welcomed the open affection of the older man he had come to view as surrogate uncle.

His new master was more teacher than friend, more brother than father. He had quickly grown to like Obi-Wan, but building a relationship from scratch with him had not been near as easy; Obi-Wan's affection was less obvious in its display and mixed up with the adjustment of roles and expectations as two humans, both essentially strangers to each other, adjusted to living together. His new master worked hard to build a foundation for their relationship that was more teacher and student than simple friendship.

Anakin had wanted – and needed – just a friend.

That someone could not be his master. While Obi-Wan had been nothing but kind to him and had tried his best to help Anakin adjust and to make friends, he had been too reserved a man and too conscious of his new role to be the affectionate presence and refuge that Anakin longed for in the absence of his mother.

It had not helped that man and boy both grieved for Qui-Gon Jinn as well, a grief that united yet separated them as they mourned in their own separate ways. Anakin wished to learn all he could of the Jedi who had saved him from slavery; Obi-Wan wished to hold his grief and his memories close and found it difficult to speak of the master who had been such a large part of his life.

To deal with his emotions, Anakin had turned to his new friend, who encouraged him to openly share his confusion and sorrow.

"Jedi do not deal with emotions," Palpatine had told him, explaining why Obi-Wan said so little about the grief he must have felt, or the confusion in adjusting to the changes in his life. "They find emotions distracting and thus rid themselves of such, and relegate the past to the past to live in the current moment. Perhaps that is why your master does not seem willing to speak of his own master; that period in his life is over and forgotten."

"You're saying Jedi don't feel like we do?" It sounded so reasonable; it fit with some of what he already knew about the Jedi. On the other hand, he was certain of one thing. "But I - I've seen tears in his eyes; I know he misses Qui-Gon."

"Oh, at first, of course, your master is only human. He's also a Jedi, and so like a good Jedi is trained to do, he has since released that grief and moved forward with his life. That would explain why he discourages you from talking about Master Jinn, wouldn't it?"

"Do you think my mom will forget me like Obi-Wan did with Qui-Gon?" Anakin could barely whisper the words, lips atremble. Palpatine looked shocked at the thought.

"Dear me, no, Anakin, your mother will always be thinking of you. Real people are not like Jedi, especially parents. You will always be in your mother's thoughts, as she will be in yours. I care for you, as well, Anakin – would you forgive an old man who has no family left the indulgence of thinking of you as, well, family?"

Their friendship had been sealed with a hug. Here in this office, Anakin had felt free to be himself without reservation or regard to rank. Here, his every thought and every emotion, every fear and every joy, had been allowed free reign and for a boy whose spirit craved free expression, it was refuge from the Order's discipline.

"Chancellor, good to see you." Anakin bowed and advanced into the office as Palpatine turned to greet him, shaking his hand with a beaming smile, his weariness for the moment put aside.

"My boy! So good to see you again. Once again I must congratulate you on a fine job there on Jabiim; you handled the evacuation as well, if not better than could be expected in the circumstances. Without your firm hand, many more lives would have been lost."

"Far fewer would have been lost with better support," Anakin said bitterly. "I sometimes wonder on the Council's priorities – by the way, I understand you attended a Council session – that is unusual is it not?"

"As a courtesy, I sometimes attend them as they so often attend me." Palpatine waved it off. "Your Council has asked that I make the public announcement of Master Kenobi's safe return. They are no doubt embarrassed about their – error in judgment – in declaring your master dead, not to mention their dismissal of Master Kenobi's padawan's declaration - you, my boy - that Master Kenobi was still alive."

"They wouldn't listen to me," Anakin said, glancing away. _They did not believe me_.

Resentment flared within, directed at the Council for not listening. They had not listened to Obi-Wan when he requested equipment better suited to the conditions they faced – he had seen his master up late night after night wrestling with ways to adapt to the constant rain and soggy ground, making do with what he was given.

The Council had not listened to the need to divert more ships to the evacuation attempt, leaving troops and loyalist Jabiimi to face certain death or surrender – and Anakin the heart-wrenching task of leaving far too many behind.

The Council had not listened to his insistence that Obi-Wan was alive and in need of rescue. They had left Anakin's master to his fate, to survive or not on his own, to escape or not on his own.

With a look of understanding, Palpatine laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "It is a fact – a shame to be sure – but a truism that young prodigies are often dismissed by their elders, in many cases those less skilled or talented. The mediocre sometimes rise to the top, the capable often, yet the truly outstanding are ostracized and marginalized, and rarely listened to. Pride, my boy, pride is a terrible detriment to accomplishments."

_Was it pride that made the Council ignore Anakin? Did they not hear – or chose not to listen?_

With a sigh, Anakin rubbed his eyes and offered, "Even in the Senate, Chancellor, it is hard for those with clear vision to be heard amongst the clamoring voices. They prefer to appoint committees and study a problem until a situation resolves itself without them so that they may then take the credit."

A low chuckle of recognition escaped Palpatine. "An astute observation. The Senate runs best running in place, eager to defer decisions. The Jedi Council, too, I am coming to believe as you so clearly already think."

"Well," Anakin shifted uncomfortably; he hadn't quite said that. He thought so often enough, but was willing to occasionally entertain the possibility they might have valid reasons for what they did. "They really had no reason to believe Obi-Wan was alive – there truly seemed no way for him to escape incineration; even I first believed he was dead."

"But you came to believe he lived."

"Yes." Anakin's face darkened. There had been no body; there had been no charred remains of a lightsaber. "After the first shock of thinking him dead, there was no reason to believe he was dead – our bond was not severed."

"The bond between master and apprentice cannot be doubted. I'm surprised they did."

"They balanced my word against the evidence – the evidence that Obi-Wan must have been caught in the blast and thus had to be dead. They insisted my feelings – my instincts – were mistaken, arising out of denial and pain. I am too much of a Jedi to allow that to happen."

Anakin's voice was strong, his back straight, the true picture of a Jedi wronged.

"Yes, my boy, I see that, even if they do not. Your instincts serve you well; it is too bad the Council does not allow them to serve the Force."

"I must agree," Anakin murmured, nodding at the truth of the Chancellor's words.

"I understand you are quite the powerful young Jedi, your skills in some cases exceeding those of your master and nearly rivaling some of the most powerful Jedi. Your instincts are strong and true. I don't pretend to understand your Force, but I hear that you have a most powerful connection with it, a connection quite without par, yet they don't take advantage of your talents as they should. I have again asked them to consider promoting you to the position you have more than earned, but I'm afraid they are determined to keep their own council on that."

"The Council does not like to be told what to do."

"That proves they are merely fallible beings as are the rest of us – none of us like to be told what to do."

"As Chancellor, you can tell others what to do."

"It is a great responsibility, but I agree – sometimes the Senate would accomplish nothing left to their own devices. Occasionally I allow myself the luxury of telling them what they should do – sometimes, my boy, they listen, and something gets accomplished."

"I wish you could tell the Council I should be sent after Ventress."

The Chancellor paused before speaking, creasing his eyebrows in confusion. "You have asked and been denied?

"I expect them to say no, but I have not yet spoken to them. I have not wished to leave Obi-Wan as long as he has needed me, but he has recovered to the point there is no real reason to remain and every reason to pursue the woman who hurt him." Obi-Wan's health had been the perfect reason and excuse to remain on Coruscant; it had afforded as well opportunities to visit his wife. Their time together was all too infrequent, consisting largely of stolen moments.

Leaving Padmé so soon was not his preference. Getting Ventress was, however, far more important to him.

**

"Obi, sit down." At a slight noise, Bant looked up to see the Jedi lounging against the doorjamb. He had his arms crossed and hands tucked in his robes. "How's Terzah?"

"Resting." Obi-Wan dropped into a seat and leaned back with a sigh. "Needless violence – I never get used to it. Terzah had just arrived on planet. The cycle of violence just continues without end."

"Their children were killed and they don't understand why."

"I know." Images of little Caellya, Kyyle, Jarod – even the young infant, Ian, he had comforted in the Healers Ward that one day – crossed his mind. He shuddered at the thought of their deaths, young lives suddenly snuffed out - one day children full of laughter and eager to learn, one day – dead, forever silent and forever safe in the Force.

A hand rubbed his forehead as he slumped further into his seat.

"Terzah was an innocent bystander, there to observe and help. Turning on him didn't lessen their pain or grief, it didn't bring their children back, it was pointless, needless violence – and against someone who was there to see what needed to be done to help them," Obi-Wan reiterated stubbornly. He relaxed as Bant came over to sit next to him, messaging tense neck muscles. "Oh, that feels good – you should have been a therapist."

"You're a Jedi, Obi, you're used to – oh." Bant shrugged as Obi-Wan leaned into her touch. He was bound to be sensitive to senseless violence yet, especially when it was directed at another. It had never been easy on Obi-Wan to be helpless to stop atrocities and violence; Qui-Gon had worked long and hard to help his young padawan learn to release his frustration and grief at the pain he so often witnessed into the Force. Shedding others' pain was often a first and difficult lesson to learn for young Jedi.

"It's not easy for you right now, is it?" Bant wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders and leaned her head against his as his hands came up to clasp hers.

"No," he murmured. "Meditation usually keeps me centered; just as physical action keeps Anakin too occupied to think over much. Maybe I should try his method – I'm open to more than one solution."

"Or you can talk to Cielan."

"Or I can talk to Cielan. Or Jayren. Siri, Yoda. Even you, but you're on duty. Am I keeping you from a patient? No, good." He twisted his head around to look at her, quite serious. "So tell me, Bant, how do you healers deal with the hurt and the sick, day after day?"

"We torment the patients." She poked Obi-Wan in the ribs, making him jump but it had the desired effect. "Go talk to Jayren, why don't you – you usually feel better if you can make someone else feel better."

**

The figure braced against pillows was deeply engrossed in a datapad. Jayren had never let his debilitating wounds keep him from living life to the full, even if that life was now confined to a bed. His body may not have been under his control, but Jayren had adopted the attitude that his mind and spirit were. Obi-Wan found his younger colleague inspirational and a sure cure for whatever ailed him.

Sensing Obi-Wan's arrival, Jayren tugged on Obi-Wan's sleeve with the Force while pretending ignorance of his presence. A flick of Obi-Wan's fingers sent his prized Force-sensitive rock to lightly smack Jayren's arm, before it was neatly directed back to his waiting hand to be again tucked within its belt pouch.

"Obi-Wan!" The Jedi shifted awkwardly to face his visitor. "If anyone can make me laugh, it's you."

The usual greeting brought a genuine laugh from the Jedi so addressed. "I came here hoping you'd make _m_e laugh, old friend."

"Ah, you're going to allow me to cheer you up for a change? Sit and talk, tell me a joke or two if you're through harassing an invalid."

"Harassing – and who's the invalid?" Obi-Wan straddled a chair and clasped his friend's hand, feeling the weak response in return. He used his other hand to help Jayren's hand curl around his and then teased him with an, "Ouch, don't re-break that hand, it's only been healed a week or so."

"Blame yourself if so." A pert smile accompanied the words. "You know, my friend, why I like you? You're meaner to me now than when I was able to arm wrestle you – I believe I beat you nearly every time."

"Someone has to keep you in line," Obi-Wan said tolerantly. Jayren had once had the grip of a gundark with prey in claw; the pain of that grip made any thought of actually trying to leverage his arm to a table well nigh impossible without judicious application of the Force. Now those hands were minimally functional, more than could be said for his lower limbs.

Obi-Wan well knew that many of his fellow Jedi tended to avoid any kind of talk that might remind Jayren he was once an active and well-regarded knight. The truth was that Jayren was still active, if not physically so, and still well regarded as one of the brighter scholars of Jedi history in the Temple.

Just as Jayren had lost his ability to laugh due to the brain damage he had suffered, most of his friends had lost their ability to be free with their laughter around him. Obi-Wan knew how Jayren hungered to hear the sound; he knew what laughter was even if he was incapable of it. His standard greeting asking for a laugh was both a plea and a desire of a mind to be gifted what it could no longer provide itself – and Obi-Wan was honored to be the bearer of that gift.

Obi-Wan finished one story, and embarked on another as Jayren listened, rapt. Over the next hour or so, one heart was gladdened, and one spirit was uplifted. Laughter was, indeed, the best medicine.

**

With a stab of a finger, Lord Sidious stared at the flickering hologram of his apprentice.

"Tyrannus, your acolyte has a chance to redeem herself. She is still smarting, is she not? Good, very good. I wish her to tantalize the Jedi with the possibility of capturing her, perhaps an intercepted message – it is to be a feint. I wish Skywalker to be granted his wish to pursue her, a mission of his choosing. I also wish to separate him from Kenobi before his rage at his master's treatment cools into mere determination to seek justice. Strike, while the hyperdrive is shutting down."

'My lord; it shall be done." Dooku bowed and signed off.

Sidious leaned back in his seat. Tyrannus would arrange it so that the Jedi Council would have no chance to deny Skywalker his request. Every time the boy was on his own, his anger so carefully brought to a slow simmer, he reacted emotionally. Kenobi was his conscience, but a conscience was no good when left behind.

Perhaps Ventress was to be commended after all for her initiative. Kenobi was the key to turning Skywalker – and one day, Skywalker would turn on Kenobi.

It was all Sidious could do not to rub his hands in glee. It was all working out perfectly.

**

It had been a satisfactory workout; it had felt good to work up a sweat even if his muscles now burned. He had allowed himself to be zapped a few times or so by a remote – he chose to call it "allowed" rather than "unable to deflect" the bolts – the momentary sting a rather effective reminder of his need to regain his reflexes and agility.

He had even managed to work in a few exchanges with Anakin when his padawan came down for a quick workout, though Anakin had not found him much of a challenge. Obi-Wan had taken pity on the young man and left him with a soft clap on the back and a murmured, "Thanks for taking it easy on an old man."

"Weak," Anakin corrected him. He grinned as Obi-Wan toweled dry. "You're weak, old man, not old. Just older."

"Keep challenging me, young one, and I'll soon be strong enough to hand you your butt," he shot back.

"I look forward to it, Master."

"As do I, Anakin, as do I. Have fun." He quietly tossed several re-activated remotes over his head and winced at the distinctive sound of bolts striking flesh behind him as his padawan yelped.

"Ouch – that was a dirty trick, Master; I'll get you for that someday."

He paused, turned his head and sighed as Anakin rubbed his arm. The young Jedi was trying to glare at him – and succeeding not at all, since a big grin stretched over his face.

"A Jedi is always mindful, my padawan. I'm just doing my masterly duty to keep you on your toes and alert."

"Thanks, Master."

There was not a trace of sarcasm in his tone, Obi-Wan was pleased to notice. He took a few steps back towards him and ruffled his hair. "Oh, you're very welcome."

Now, after a warm shower and light meal, he was greeting the mind healer at her office. Cielan stood to meet him, looked him over, and shook her head.

"You look tired."

"Another bout of fatigue probably brought on by over-exertion and, er, some frustration I didn't deal well with earlier," Obi-Wan slumped into a seat, trying to restrain a yawn. "How long does it take midis to recover?"

"Considering you're the only Jedi to survive such a debilitating depletion of midis – we don't know," Cielan admitted, sitting down as well. "What exactly have you been overdoing? Should I be scolding you, or Neille?"

"Both?" Obi-Wan grinned widely at her. "Physical and, er, a bit of trying to deal with a few things."

"Things – as in mental or emotional?"

"Both, rather." Obi-Wan rubbed his chin. "The situation with Terzah, first of all…the boy was there to assess their needs, to help, and – it got to me. This blasted war…." Cielan's sympathetic eyes urged him to continue, to release what bothered him.

"Jedi have always been in the thick of trouble – trying to keep a bad situation from exploding or trying to contain an already explosive situation – only now there seems no end to it. Violence is more pervasive and it's changing people – even the Jedi. My own padawan - ."

He slowly shook his head, thinking of how Anakin seemed quicker to both anger and compassion these days. He was proud of the young man, yet concerned, for should Anakin's fury ever be fully unleashed – he shuddered. He remembered the initial joy of their reunion on Riflor after his escape and the sheer, unreasoning panic that had ripped through his soul when Anakin's relief was replaced by rage at recognition of what had been done to his mentor.

Anakin's fingers digging into his shoulders – demanding to know who, who had dared to hurt his master, there on Riflor – his own unreasonable _fear_ of his own padawan – then the comforting arm around his shoulder and the slow tears that had dripped from his padawan's eyes to mix with his own.…

Firmly shooing those memories away, he added, "Anakin's been looking rather glum lately – I think his experiences on Jabiim are starting to surface now that he's no longer so concerned about me, and the latest news from the front has unsettled him." The Republic had been forced to withdraw from yet another battlefield – abandon another planet - when troops slated for reinforcement had been diverted to another battlefield that had flared up.

"On top of all that, Mace – Master Windu – asked if I would present a proposal for some options related to – well, that's Council business," he grinned sheepishly. It was too early to speak of the discussions regarding the older initiates and their future with the Order.

Rubbing his eyes, he finished with, "To top everything off, I went to one of the sallé's to work out; it was not such a good idea. The remotes stung my pride as much as my body; I'm afraid."

He spread his hands wide: _Now you know_, it seemed to say.

"I'm not going to be able to enforce a no-stress rule for you without confining you to quarters, am I?" The words were the verbal equivalent of Cielan's hands on her hips, even though the mind healer had not changed position.

"I'm limiting my stress," Obi-Wan protested.

"Uh huh." Cielan stared at the Jedi. She then leaned forward and looked him in the eye.

"Still having nightmares, even occasionally? Flashbacks?"

He was forced to admit to it.

"Losing concentration? Irritable, on the edge? Grumpy?" Cielan probed, trying not to grin too broadly, for it was clear she knew – and knew Obi-Wan knew - the answer was affirmative.

"No," he growled, more good-naturedly than not, and then sighed, for even such a display of irritation, though tempered with humor, was inappropriate in his mind. "Occasionally, yes, I must admit, though the nightmares have been rare. I do apologize; I had no right to snap at you."

"You at least know right from wrong," the mind healer said soothingly, and laughed as Obi-Wan threw her a surprised look and relaxed. "Healer humor. You're doing really well, but you aren't totally past this yet. Expect lingering aftereffects for a while. It takes time, Obi-Wan, even for a Jedi. Torture casts a long shadow over the subconscious and it takes time to really heal. You let us know when the dreams stop, and if you have a bad flashback, call us."

Getting serious, the healer leaned forward. "Right now you seem pretty upbeat but don't get too upset with yourself if you continue to get a little short-tempered and irritable on occasion. You'll get emotional at times, often over something essentially trivial. Not only is that still to be expected, but we've informed the Council to expect the same -," she lifted a finger, "when you're cleared to resume those duties."

Running his fingers through his hair, Obi-Wan admitted, "It is true my presence is not absolutely required, yet when I accepted a seat I accepted the responsibility to participate to the best of my ability."

"The best of your ability is when you are healthy. That may, however, be a disappointment to Master Yoda."

A quirk of an eyebrow greeted that statement, a polite invitation to explain.

"I think he's looking forward to seeing a cranky Master Kenobi who pulls no punches. When informed that you would soon be allowed limited participation, Master Yoda grunted something about how he looked forward to hearing blunt honesty from you rather than tactful consensus building. I was surprised; he must think highly of you to express such sentiments."

"Oh, no, I doubt it's anything like that. Master Yoda likes his little jokes."

"Oh, that he does. He can be the biggest youngling in the Order," she paused to laugh as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at her and a hand to the height of his knee, "or, at least, the oldest."


	9. Storm Clouds

**Chapter 9. Storm Clouds **

It didn't take the Force to discern Anakin Skywalker was frustrated. He had stormed past his master without a hello and disappeared into his room, wearing a scowl like a thundercloud about to spit lightning. Obi-Wan leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting for his padawan to acknowledge him.

"Would you like to talk about whatever is bothering you?" Though Anakin shook his head, Obi-Wan walked over and pulled the chair out from the desk and settled in. "I could use a light workout, so I can go a little one on one with you in the gym if you want to blow out some frustration – you just have to go easy on me. I'm not at my best, yet."

"I'm well aware of that."

"You are?" Even the playful teasing wasn't easing the frown on his padawan's face.

"I'm well aware of everything you faced, Master. I saw you on that shuttle; I saw you in the bacta tank, I saw…." He bit off the rest of his words, looking at his hands. "I saw too much, Master – everyone except you died."

"Jabiim." Obi-Wan nodded. "You have to let it go, Padawan."

"It won't let _me_ go."

"Not if you don't let it."

A scowl greeted that quiet advice. "Don't give me that same line like you did before – about dreams passing in time. I listened to you, and you were wrong. My mother died. Just like on Jabiim. Everyone died on Jabiim."

Obi-Wan had wondered how long it would be until the pressure got to Anakin; he had known from the beginning that Anakin needed to release his feelings about being the only Jedi survivor of the last stand on Jabiim.

This particular storm cloud had been looming on the horizon for some time, now; he had even mentioned it to Cielan just a day or so past. Sadly, he had been expecting this; he just hadn't expected Anakin to mention his mother's death or the sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that accompanied it.

"Anakin." He ventured a hand onto his padawan's shoulder, little knowing what he could say at this point. The time for words had come and gone; the words had been said long ago and it had seemed that the hurt and grief had gone as well.

It little mattered now; a good woman – Anakin's mother - was dead and it seemed his padawan still harbored some resentment towards his master. Perhaps it was a resentment that Obi-Wan deserved to shoulder, at least in part. He had truly thought the dreams were dreams, based on the limited knowledge he had. Had a woman died because he was too caught up in duty, or would anything he could have said or done made the slightest difference?

"I'm sorry."

The shoulder under his hand jerked away as Anakin whirled to face him. "Sorry doesn't bring anyone back, Master. Sorry doesn't make up for your being wrong, or me being too late; 'sorry' is just empty words."

Obi-Wan's eyes were soft with compassion, for he well knew the power in words. He had been hurt by them in the past, perhaps even hurt others by them in the past, but he had been healed by them as well.

"_I take the boy as my padawan learner."_ The wound those words had created had been deep – a casting aside couched as a sending forward, or so it had seemed in his hurt.

"_You are a far wiser man than I and foresee you will become a great Jedi."_ The breech had been mended, at least in part, by two men who could not bear to let the hurt stand, both willing to make amends and move forward and leave the hurt behind.

"Oh, my padawan, no, not when the words come from the heart. Apologies and regrets don't make the hurts go away, but they can help the hurts to heal. Each and every one of us has something we either have or will have to heal from, deeds we may have done or deeds better left undone." He lifted Anakin's face with a finger under his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "I _am _sorry."

"Why are you saying you're sorry – now? Why not before? Why have you never once said that?"

Fighting to hold onto his composure, Obi-Wan took a deep breath before asking in an even voice that did not betray his utter shock at the accusation, "Why have you never heard when I've said it before? I'll say it as many times as it takes until you do hear me. I am sorry, Anakin."

The frustrated anger simmering within his padawan eased as Anakin gazed silently at his master as Obi-Wan gave him however long he needed to see the sincerity in his master's eyes. When he nodded, just slightly, Obi-Wan dared to pull Anakin into a quick embrace. He was surprised when Anakin's arms snaked around his waist as the padawan hugged him back with his own whispered, "I'm sorry, Master."

"_I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that – you're nothing like Watto. I deserved a scolding, I did." Anakin's arms snaked around his master in apology for his temper tantrum. Just like the actions that had provoked it, it had taken Obi-Wan by surprise; startled by his padawan's fierce repudiation of a rebuke for a dangerous stunt that had scared several years off his master's life, he had restrained the boy's flailing arms only to be accused of being no better than his slave owner._

_Before the shock of that accusation had even registered, his padawan was clinging to him, begging for forgiveness of his words._

"_Oh, my padawan – how am I going to discipline you when I don't know what triggers bad memories for you," he spoke into the silky hair pressed into his shoulder._

"_Don't discipline me." The muffled words were shaky._

"_Okay. I won't."_

"_You won't?" Anakin drew back, startled, searching his master's face. It had been hard to maintain a straight face at the comical look in his padawan's eyes._

"_Nope." He could no longer restrain his grin. "Not if you behave yourself."_

_Anakin humphed. "Deal." He sighed, a melodramatic sigh that had Obi-Wan biting his lips. "I'd better get used to being disciplined, I guess."_

"_How will you get field experience if you spend the rest of your apprenticeship confined to quarters?" The teasing and hair ruffle brought a giggle from Anakin. Hoping he was growing into the master role, Obi-Wan plopped Anakin next to him and placed his hands on the boy's shoulder to keep him still long enough to hear what he needed to say._

"_Padawan, I know little of your past unless you share it with me. I will never knowingly harm you and when I scold you, it will be because of something you did, not who you are. You are allowed to question my decisions up to a point, but when I say enough, I expect you to accept my decision. You are not allowed to use derogatory epithets or to strike out physically. Until you learn to control your emotions you may pummel your pillow as much as you like, but not another being." _

"_I'm sorry, Master,"_ was suddenly, "I'm sorry, Master," bringing Obi-Wan back into the present.

"I'm sorry, Master, I didn't mean to sound so cruel." Anakin's smile was tentative, a peace offering. "I'm sorry."

"What happened to bring this all up?" A hand dropped onto Anakin's shoulder and lay there, physically connecting the two and an invitation to connect emotionally. Siri had taught him the value of such simple things as touching; how touch almost more than words could connect two beings. Every time a healer, Yoda, or Siri - Anakin as well – patted or held his hand he had felt safe, each touch wiping into memory all the painful touches that had come before.

"We lost Hanen; we abandoned another planet," was the dull reply, before a spark of anger burned the dullness away. "All for lack of proper air support. I should have been there, Master; I'm a better pilot and commander – that air wing should have been mine. We both know that, just as we both know it would have been mine if I were a knight not a padawan. Instead I'm sitting here on Coruscant doing nothing."

Obi-Wan let the words dissipate before responding, seeing half-ashamed contrition in Anakin's expression and releasing his own twinge of guilt.

"You don't call waking me up from my nightmares and reassuring me that I'm safe 'doing nothing' do you? I put in for hazardous duty pay for you, after what I did to Bant's nose."

"Twice nothing – yeah, I'm in it for the big reward."

That retort brought a chuckle from both men. Before it died away, Obi-Wan brought his other hand up and held Anakin by both shoulders, squeezing gently.

"You can't be everywhere, save everyone, Anakin. No Jedi can. You can only do what you can in the situation you are in, and trust others to do their best in the situation they are in. Everything else is in the hands of the Force."

"Tell me, Master, why did the Force allow you to be tortured? Because your best wasn't enough to avoid it? What about Jabiim – did they all die because my best wasn't good enough to save them?"

The words were part challenge, part wish for reassurance – reminding Obi-Wan of the man Anakin was becoming and the boy he still could be.

"No, Anakin. No one _deserves_ misfortune. Misfortune happens by chance, sometimes by a lack of preparation. There is no explanation for it and none is needed. But one doesn't earn one's fate, one chooses it. One makes the best decision possible with the information at hand, accepts the results and does his best to make of it all that he can."

Anakin stared into his mentor's eyes before asking tentatively, "What did you make of your captivity, Master?"

That was a question easily answered, for the Jedi master had grappled with that himself. He was a firm believer that something good could always be salvaged, no matter how difficult a situation had been.

'I made it a chance to reconnect with the human part of me, the part that didn't have the Force to lean on. I'm making it a chance to reconnect with those in my life, and I hope to make it a chance to redeem a lost soul. A chance to acknowledge my past mistakes and to try to make amends for them, as well. Everyone deserves a second chance."

"I don't…."

The whisper was so soft that Obi-Wan wasn't sure he had heard the words he thought he had. His fingers tightened just a bit on the shoulders beneath his hands, an unconscious plea to speak. "Talk to me, Padawan, please tell me what troubles you."

A mute headshake was his only answer. With a sigh, Obi-Wan stood and made his way over to the doorway, only to pause. His own words echoed in his mind: he would be making just another mistake if he were to accept Anakin's silence as he had so many times before. There were times Anakin needed a friend, and times his padawan needed a master.

The healers had already assured him that it would take longer than he realized to be completely free of the effects of his captivity, but that he was functioning well and the effects were not interfering with his ability to function as a man or a Jedi.

He just needed to persuade Anakin of the same, that he was now capable of being the master that his padawan needed – that he had the will and the strength both.

He understood Anakin's reluctance to speak, to share the pain of Jabiim with a master all too familiar with that pain – but it was now time, if not past time. Now he knew it had been too early to make that attempt while he lay still bandaged and smelling of bacta in the healers ward. Anakin had been quite protective of him at that time.

Whatever trials Anakin had faced on Jabiim, he had submerged under his worry for his master's recovery, but now they were fighting free as his master had fought free from that experience.

Though he had made the attempt more than once, with Anakin always refusing, he had to try again. He wanted to pass on some of his newfound peace and strength to his padawan, try once more to be the anchor in the storm that Anakin had been to him during the nightmares.

"Let me make us a cup of tea and then we shall talk, okay?"

"I thought we have been," was accompanied by the tiniest of smiles, before it disappeared. "I have nothing more to say."

"Then you will listen to me, and then when you can't stand it anymore, you will have to speak to shut me up," Obi-Wan said firmly. He softened his voice. "Burdens are lighter when they are shared and my shoulders are strong enough to help you bear them. The one thing I cannot do is take them from you no matter how much I might wish to; but anything I can do, I will do without hesitation."

"Would you – really do anything?"

"Anything but sacrifice my soul, my padawan – I would descend into the bowels of

darkness and fight for you, I would suffer any agonies to spare you the same – but my soul is not mine to give for it is pledged to the Force alone."

Leaving Anakin to ponder his words, he took his time fixing a pot of tea. Tonight, Force willing, he would break through his padawan's refusal to speak. He was heartened to find Anakin waiting for him in the common room, closed off yet not to the point of being unreachable.

"I hate to see you so troubled," he offered along with a cup as he sat.

"I really don't want to talk about it. You're the one who says what is past is past."

Obi-Wan contemplated his padawan over his own cup. "I have said once one has faced and released the past, one needs to put the past behind him. I am trying to help you find your way to release – if not by speaking to me, at least recognizing that you have work to do to get past it. There is no shame in needing assistance. I only wish to help; it is my duty as your master and," his voice softened, "my wish as a friend, as well."

Again, Anakin only offered silence in return, though he looked away as if he would succumb if he continued to look at his master. The silence grew as Obi-Wan racked his brain on how to reach his padawan.

He hadn't offered such obstinate silence to Qui-Gon, had he? _Forgive me, Master, if I was ever this stubborn when you tried only to help. _He had no idea a Force ghost chuckled at a few memories of its own before acknowledging a grim reality that was as yet unknown to Obi-Wan.

_For better or worse, my padawan, you had no such failings to confess as does Anakin. Reach him; you must reach him for much depends on this and time is running short._

Shameless coaxing might work, so he tried another line of reasoning. "It would help my own healing if I could understand what you had to face." Anakin's face only grew more shuttered and the obstinate line of his mouth mirrored Obi-Wan at his worst.

"Padawan, do you really want me to worry about you when the healers wish me to remain free of stress?" Appealing to his compassion might achieve what seemed near impossible. At least that garnered a response, if not the one he hoped for.

"I've dealt with it, Master, long before I rescued you."

"You rescued me? I think not." He said it with a chuckle, trying to tease words out of his stubborn padawan.

"Who saved your illustrious behind on Riflor? You could barely hold your saber near the end."

Obi-Wan's lips twitched. Anakin was now – finally - teasing him, the sullen set of his mouth relaxing into the beginnings of a grin; his grim mood at last evaporating.

"Who lost focus and had to be saved by Master Mundi?" he reminded him, finally letting his chuckle free. He laughed harder as Anakin mock-glared at him.

"Worry for my master overruled my focus. Should I apologize?"

"No, Padawan." He leaned over and patted Anakin's knee. "Just remember to be mindful – and thank you. Your concern on my behalf is gratifying, but the cost of such should not be your life as it might have been. I escaped for the mere purpose of continuing to make your life miserable; instead, mine would have been had I lost you."

The words were not lost on Anakin; he smiled and ducked his head.

Affection always seemed to turn the young man into a shy boy, pleased and uncertain it was directed at him. Once Obi-Wan had come to that realization, many years before, he had forced himself to express it more frequently and visibly, a pat on the shoulder not just a mere pleased nod of the head, a squeeze with the grin, little gestures that had come with more and more naturalness as time passed and their relationship developed.

"Padawan." He paused, hesitant to force confessions or revelations of private thoughts, yet knowing they needed to be brought out in the open to be dealt with. Siri had reinforced that very lesson just recently, when he had been needlessly burdened by his fear of being contaminated by the dark. Had that fear been grounded in reality, not deception, he could have been cleansed of it rather than suffering in silence.

"Would it make a difference – if I spoke of my own experiences?" Anakin looked up at him, startled, and looking strangely moved at his master's offer.

Was this what he had needed to do all along? Why hadn't he shared his own experiences with Anakin – because he knew the knowledge would needlessly burden his padawan with pain that was not his own. Why didn't Anakin share with him? Perhaps for the same reason. Each wished to protect the other.

He had never loved his padawan more than he did with that realization.

"Padawan." He nodded and managed a smile. "I think I understand your silence – and thank you. Your reasoning leads you to the wrong conclusion; I am here to guide you and I am capable of it now. Be that as it may, your compassion does you credit."

He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. Only Siri, Yoda and the healers were privy to all that he had thought, felt and experienced. Even though he hadn't realized it at the time, he had been reaching out for their help all along, even while shunning it. The hardest thing he'd ever faced was accepting that help. It had turned out to be the best decision of his life.

Each of them had reached out to him, waiting for that moment when he reached back. As they had with him, he would reach to his padawan until his padawan reached back.

Anakin was no longer a child, needing to be shielded from his master's all too real human vulnerability so that he would see only a strong Jedi who was to teach and guide him. Obi-Wan wasn't ready to share every detail but he could share enough that his padawan would know his master had known similar hurt, fear, and uncertainty.

"Padawan, I know you've questioned why I haven't been more open with you." He held up a hand to forestall the protest he saw forming. "I wasn't able to be open with anyone, for one thing; that lack was within me, not others."

"I understand, Master." The dutiful murmur didn't sound terribly convincing yet there was a hint of real understanding there as well.

"Perhaps you do; you obviously have your own scars from Jabiim." Obi-Wan fell silent, noting Anakin's unconscious nod of agreement. "I've come to believe that being unable to speak of such may be a temporary need as the mind heals; it is _not_ the way to heal and move past such experiences. Padawan," he caught the young man's gaze and held it; "you saw most of my physical wounds."

"I saw." In Anakin's eyes, Obi-Wan could see that moment of recognition aboard the ship bringing them home from Rattatak, Anakin's rage and horror – and his own desperate evasion of the truth that was all too clearly scrawled in bruises and wounds on his flesh.

Gaunt, scarred, pale – he remembered his own first look into the looking glass as he first saw himself. He remembered the stunned recognition, the futile attempt to deny the evidence of his eyes as he stood frozen in horror. _That jagged half-healed rip was where she – __don't remember, don't remember__, his mind had whispered – and that bruise lay over the bone that had been – __I don't want to remember, not yet._

_Anakin's outraged hiss upon his entrance:_

"_What did she do to you! What – did – she – do – to you?"_ Oh, he'd tried to be calm, rational even, hoping the oversimplification would numb the pain.

"Various unpleasant things as you no doubt see."

The sight of those wounds had only inflamed Anakin's outrage.

_Rough hands grabbed him by the shoulders, forced him to twist around and his eyes to focus outwards. Anakin was glaring at him, his fingers curling so tightly into Obi-Wan's shoulder that he could feel the tips of the nails, crushing almost to the bone… he had _

_thought himself freed from the pain but the torture didn't end, it just continued, no matter how he bit his tongue, no matter how he screamed…  
_

Obi-Wan passed a hand over his forehead, wiping that memory away into the past. It had no power to harm him now; its pain muted and one day forever gone. He took a deep breath, for those hadn't been the wounds that had struck the deepest. It was those wounds he needed now to speak of.

"Anakin, the mental wounds were much worse; inflicted by a Sith torture device that twisted my mind towards darkness to the point that I feared – contaminating you with the poison that was within me."

"Master." Anakin swallowed, unable to say much more than that whisper.

Obi-Wan patted his padawan's hand, took a deep breath, and spoke as much as he thought necessary.

It was a beginning, and another step forward to putting the past behind them both, if only Anakin would reciprocate.

He spoke without emotion, or tried to, but he was well aware that he might perhaps never be able to speak overlong without gut-wrenching memories surfacing to silence his words. By the time he trailed off he was hoarse and only Anakin's hands tightly grasping his own prevented his own from trembling.

Again he understood the truth of Yoda's words: he had had to find and accept his weakness in order to accept the help and strength of others, and only with their help had he been able to move forward.

"So, you see, my inability to seek and speak the truth – my silence - was my greatest obstacle to healing. Because I wouldn't admit my fear, I couldn't overcome it. I was drowning though all around me hands were offering to pull me up and support me until I could support myself."

Without a word, Anakin leaned forward and hugged him. Obi-Wan relaxed into the embrace with a soft sigh of relief as his padawan's arms tightened in turn around him. He really hadn't known how his padawan would react to hearing of his fight with the dark, but Anakin saw only the pain and the struggle; saw past those dark thoughts forced upon him.

One hand patted Anakin's shoulder in return. "Padawan, let me support you now," he entreated as the two men separated. Would Anakin now speak? He could see that Anakin was teetering.

"Will you tell me about Jabiim now? Siri forced me to heal, by forcing me to face that fear and move beyond it. She offered me what I am offering you and asking that you accept – unconditional acceptance in order to heal and move on. Will you let me help you?" He searched Anakin's eyes, looking for acquiescence. It nearly came; Anakin hesitated and licked his lips, then shook his head.

"Not yet, Master. Please – give me some more time."

Obi-Wan slowly nodded. He would wait. He would wait as long as it took, for his padawan. "Speak to me when you are ready, then. I will be here."

**

Now, Obi-Wan reflected, after more than a week, they still had not spoken of Jabiim, either of them, and now it was too late, for Anakin was gone with the Council's blessings. How he knew this he wasn't sure, but he knew, deep within him.

Everything within him had cried out that Anakin needed to speak; that Obi-Wan needed to hear and guide Anakin. It wasn't just a master's concern for his padawan, but a Jedi master's senses – Obi-Wan's "bad feeling" – that silence might lead to consequences yet unimagined.

Though he had come to realize that his padawan would not speak unless the master provided the example; he now sensed with equal certainty that his openness had been what had prevented Anakin's speaking – his master's revelations had overwhelmed and silenced him. Keeping his own silence or not – it had not mattered in the end. The decision to free or harbor his demons within had been ultimately in Anakin's hands alone, just as with him.

The answers were locked in his silence, only glimpses available and needing to be pieced together, a puzzle missing most of the pieces.

There were many possibilities as to what haunted Anakin – the death of his fellow padawans, though he had never been close to them, the death of each and every Jedi that had left him the only Jedi alive to evacuate with the remainder of the troops. It may have been the knowledge of the many he had been forced to leave behind to fight alone or surrender, a decision made necessary due to a lack of sufficient evacuation ships.

It may have been any or all of the above, compounded by the disappearance of Obi-Wan, the bond that was silenced, not severed, when Anakin had needed his master the most.

All that Obi-Wan knew was from the official report, and while it reported what happened, it gave no firm clue why Anakin was so close-mouthed. It wasn't just the deaths of so many on Jabiim; Anakin had seen plenty of death – it was either the manner of it, or something else.

Anakin was now in pursuit of Ventress. It was not a mission he condoned, in fact he was opposed to it, but the Council had overruled him. He had not handled it well when he had initially spoken to Anakin; his concerns had hurt his padawan, seeming to throw doubts on his abilities. He had no doubts on that score. Anakin was skilled, far more so than his master in many respects, his power even more so.

He feared it was personal for Anakin, despite the young man's reassurances that he had control of his emotions. The boy simply did not retain control when provoked, and should he lose control while facing Ventress – Obi-Wan shuddered to think of the results.

After sticking close to his side, Anakin had sought and been granted permission to track Asajj Ventress. Obi-Wan had argued against it in Council, feeling that to send the padawan of the Jedi that had been tortured by her hand was unwise. It had been made clear that the only way his objections would be given serious consideration were if he baldly stated that Anakin was not capable of handling the mission or the emotions that came with it.

He could not say the first nor would he say the second, not in front of his padawan, not before the Council.

He hadn't hesitated to state his opinion in private, provoking an argument that sent Anakin storming away while Obi-Wan had been left bone-weary and frustrated. Even before learning he was without the support of the Council, Obi-Wan had subdued his turbulent emotions as had Anakin. They had parted amicably enough, but inside Obi-Wan was still troubled.

Anakin had been upset, it was all too clear, long after Obi-Wan himself ceased to be quite so consciously haunted by his captivity. Upset, and determined to find his master's captor.

Anakin had explained his motivation for pursuing Ventress as one of trying to protect Obi-Wan, and others who might suffer at Ventress's hands in the future, but the explanation seemed forced. Obi-Wan sensed something more than desire to see justice done; Anakin hid something from him, and he distrusted _that_ with a master's instinct.

Once again, Obi-Wan had stood against the Council with no concrete objections and vague feelings based on his knowledge of his padawan that the rest of the Council dismissed.

His "feelings" had been dismissed by his own master all too many times as unwarranted worrying or anxiety. The Council had dismissed his unease when Anakin's first solo mission was to escort Senator Amidala to Naboo, and things had happened on that mission that had marked his padawan forever.

He was uneasy now with this mission, and again they dismissed him.

Just for once, he wished he was subject to feelings that all was going well; then he dismissed that thought. A Jedi couldn't afford to relax. A bad feeling kept a Jedi on his toes.

Unfortunately, he reflected as he remembered that scene in Council, his bad feelings were nowhere near Anakin's toes.


	10. Conversations with a Jedi

**Chapter 10. Conversations with a Jedi **

_Not a finger twitched to betray him; even the slight thinning of his lips was hardly noticeable. The Jedi wore his outward serenity well, as would be expected of a Jedi master, regardless of inner disquiet._

_Obi-Wan Kenobi was inwardly fuming, though not unexpectedly. Accepting his dismissal, his padawan bowed before the Council, a bit lower as he met his master's eyes, for both knew the price of his victory was Obi-Wan's defeat._

_They had already had their words on the subject in private; the outcome in Council all but certain. Both had made their peace with their disagreement before this. _

_Anakin Skywalker had been granted the Council's permission to pursue Asajj Ventress or any leads to her whereabouts._

_With a glance at the rest of the Council and receiving their nods of understanding as the session wound to a close, Obi-Wan walked his padawan to the door, a hand on Anakin's shoulder._

"_When will you leave?"_

"_Shortly. I will see you when I return, Master. I will take care, believe me." The eyes shone with an earnestness that nearly put Obi-Wan's worries to rest, for his worries were not about Anakin's capabilities, but his state of mind. This Anakin did not burn with the passion that had made his master uneasy, but with a firm decisiveness that came from the mind, not the heart._

_A slight nod greeted this; Obi-Wan acknowledging that perhaps the Council was correct in that Anakin was mentally prepared for this task and that it was his master who could not see this._

"_You had best; I should hate to have to disobey the healers' restrictions to come to your rescue. May the Force be with you, Padawan." Conciliatory words, heartfelt words. He clapped the young Jedi's shoulder as Anakin bowed once more, threw a cocky grin at him and left in a swirl of robes. Lost in thought, he barely noticed when Yoda came to his side and peered up at him._

"_Dismissed, Council is, talk we shall, Obi-Wan - come."_

"_Master, I -."_

"_Obi-Wan," the little master nodded and forestalled the coming apology. "Know this decision troubles you I do, know why I do not, for much you left unsaid. Come, come."_

_Yoda was well aware of his arguments earlier and had figured out that his true opposition was based on factors that he had not verbally expressed. Bowing to the inevitable, the younger Jedi inclined his head._

_While he didn't doubt that the collective wisdom of the Council exceeded his own, Obi-Wan did know his padawan better than the rest of the Council. In all honesty he had to admit as well that perhaps his knowledge was tainted with the familiarity of past interactions, to the detriment of seeing his padawan as he might now be. _

_He would do well to discuss his feelings of unease with the wise Jedi master._

_As he had promised Anakin, he had been vociferous in his arguments against the mission, but ultimately unsuccessful. Anakin's master's input was not given serious weight; the Council perhaps believing he was arguing more from his own perspective – from lingering fears and doubts – rather than the soundness of the actual proposal. _

_He nodded to the other masters as they exited; a few nodded back, in sympathy with a master's desire to do the right thing for his padawan, as Yoda grunted and settled into his hover chair at Obi-Wan's side._

_The two Jedi had done little other than cross paths for several days. Yoda had made it a point to clear some of his time to visit Obi-Wan in the Healers Ward, his first few days back at the Temple, but had been unable to do so in the last few days. _

_Yoda was the first to begin speaking, a sideways look at his companion as they moved through the hallways towards Yoda's private quarters._

"_Well, you seem, Obi-Wan – pleased I am with your recovery. Soon, back full time on the Council you will be. Concerned, deeply concerned I was once, but no more."_

_The words warmed Obi-Wan's heart, for not even a Jedi was immune to such expressions of concern. To be so warmly welcomed back from being "dead" had been somewhat unexpected._

"_Oh, I'm quite recovered, except for the occasional rough night or so, nothing that interferes with my duties. The healers pretty much agree, although they're not handing me a full medical release yet as you know. 'You still need time to process everything, Master Kenobi'," he mimicked; then sighed. _

"_Worried for your padawan you are." Yoda broke the silence that had fallen, ears twitching as he glanced at his companion and broaching the subject he had intended to address all along._

"_Yes, but perhaps less so than in the way you are thinking." Obi-Wan tried to restrain another sigh. He would not admit this to many. "I do not doubt his skills; I fear his emotions may get in his way – he did not take well to my treatment at Ventress's hands."_

"_Accept it with equanimity we did not either," Yoda said solemnly._

"_Thank you, Master. But the Council is not tearing off to find Ventress, neither are my friends – but my padawan is."_

"_Sent he is by the Council."_

_Obi-Wan suppressed a flash of irritation. It wasn't the first time the Council had overruled a master, let alone him. He still knew it had been a mistake to send his padawan with Senator Amidala to Naboo when her life had been threatened. Anakin had returned changed – less sullen, but far more haunted, and Obi-Wan knew it wasn't all due to the loss of his mother or the battle on Geonosis._

_There had never been a chance for the two of them to talk – really talk – about that time. War had stolen the opportunities. _

"_Over my objections. He should not have been. At least – I should have had time to talk to him, to guide him to a better understanding of his – reactions before he left." Not even to Yoda would he speak of Anakin's battering against his shields, how his own padawan had only added to his pain on Riflor, unintended though it had been. "I fear… his wish for vengeance may overwhelm him." _

"_Revenge you think he may seek instead? Trained him better than that you have, worried the Council is not. Hmm, your concern, misplaced I hope it is, an aftereffect of your terrible experience. Most distressing, hard to contemplate such evil is. Understand your padawan's distress I do, yet revenge do I not seek on your behalf. Trust in your padawan you should to handle himself in adversity as his master does."_

_They rounded a corner before Obi-Wan pulled himself back from his thoughts. "Anakin still tends to react, rather than to think and then act. A common flaw of youth, I know, having fought similar tendencies when young, but he has not outgrown them as yet. I have full confidence he will learn in time, but that time has not come." _

_When that time did come, Anakin would be ready to face the trials, to take another step forward on the path of the Force. _

"_He must learn to handle himself if a knight he wishes to become. Soon the day will come and hold him back you cannot," was Yoda's calm reply, and it stopped Obi-Wan cold. Yoda swiveled to face him, ears upright in surprise._

"_Hold him back? Does the Council – do you – think I am doing that?" The thought was troubling; especially as he had a vague memory of Anakin accusing him of that same thing at some time. "He has not mastered himself yet. I had not at his age, either, I freely admit."_

"_No, no," Yoda soothed as they entered his quarters. "Running ahead of himself he is. Headstrong he is, as were other padawans including you before him, but far more powerful than most padawans he is. But this is a lesson he might need to learn for himself. Teach him you have tried but listened he has not. Some lessons cannot be taught, only learned from experience."_

_Yoda merely gazed at him, a glint of humor in his eyes as he set two cups of tea down before them as the two sat facing each other._

"_The 'perfect padawan' is no more, I suppose." Obi-Wan's tone was wry and mocking both as he tipped his head in acknowledgement of the words and the memory they evoked._

"_Never that you were," Yoda chortled. "Tried always you did to attain it, fought to keep you from it did Qui-Gon, but achieve such a state not even you could reach." He allowed a note of fond affection to color his words, here in private, for Obi-Wan had always claimed a special place in his heart._

"_Depends on how you define perfection, does it not?" Obi-Wan smiled and drank deeply as Yoda shook his head in mock sorrow._

"_Your sense of humor unchanged it is. Pleases me that lost it you have not."_

_The brief smile faded at the old Jedi's words. "I wonder if my padawan would agree with you. He still thinks more often than not that I have none. I have sometimes of late wondered if he has lost his own sense of humor, he has so often been withdrawn and quiet now that he seems reassured that I am all but well."_

"_He's either brooding or raring for action, your padawan."_

"_Oh, true; he's a contradiction as much as he ever was."_

"_Forceful and determined to rescue you he was. Knew he did, alive and suffering you were; hard it was to keep him from rushing off without direction."_

"_He would have been more than welcome at any time." Obi-Wan seemed lost in thought; then he seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. Yoda studied him for a while as the two sat sipping their tea._

_Well aware of the scrutiny, the younger Jedi remained silent, until Yoda leaned forward and spoke, a slow blink of his eyes accompanying the gently delivered words._

"_Young one, time will make you whole again. Rush it you cannot; at its own pace your recovery progresses. Your friends continue to help you as will I. Here for you always will I be," Yoda reminded him. _

"_I am most grateful, Master."_

"_Sad I am to admit that convinced you were dead the entire Council was – but hoped all along your padawan saw a truth we did not. Grieved we did over your loss, Obi-Wan – grieve for all those that have been lost even as we rejoiced in their lives – but sad indeed was my heart."_

_Obi-Wan bowed his head. "I am humbled and honored, Master. When I have needed someone to lean on, someone has always been there. I just wish…someone had been there for Anakin. Bant tried, as did Siri, but I suspect few others allowed him to grieve and now he will not speak of it – not even to me. Force knows I've tried to get him to open up."_

"_Told him we did that okay to mourn it was, not okay was it to wallow in grief," Yoda sighed. "Your padawan, productive his feelings might have been had he focused on doing not feeling. This lesson he must learn, teach him you must. To feel and act on it alone, no – to harness the heart with the mind is needed, but his heart leads his mind when the other way it should be."_

"_Oh, I quite agree, but was I much different when young?" Had not his heart led him into situations that he learned to regret afterwards? His mind had long ago learned to tame the yearnings of the heart and allow the Force to guide his actions instead: to be a Jedi, not an impulsive boy._

_Yoda studied the man before him, nodding thoughtfully but not fully in agreement, either._

"_Always your heart and mind together worked; sometimes one and sometimes the other in charge, but always linked. Not until older you were that your heart you tried to deny, encasing it in a shell of duty and rational thought, but lost it never was. Learning to give it voice you now are, humph?"_

_Surprised, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as he realized Yoda had pinpointed something he had been only half-aware of himself._

"_Is it so apparent? I am far more aware of my feelings since – my return from captivity, and my heart bids me to certain expressions of them I am not used to dealing with."_

"_Troubles you, that does?" Yoda inquired._

"_At times," Obi-Wan admitted, wondering if what troubled him the most was the sense of connection and contentment he felt when in Siri's company, especially those times when he had allowed himself to kiss her, or the feeling he couldn't shake that as a Jedi he had no right to such pleasure._

"_Hmm." Yoda sighed and scratched his head. "Obi-Wan, a reason for everything there is, even if we know it not. A reason for your heart to seek expression – resist it do not, accept it; a gift of the Force it is."_

_Obi-Wan's eyes creased in mild confusion. "But we are as Jedi to release emotions, not indulge them."_

"_No, no, feel a Jedi must, be aware of one's emotions as well in control of one's emotions – to let them be a guide, not a master. In order to restrain overindulgence, have we gone too far towards stifling them? Helped you to heal has not the affection of your friends and padawan, as yours for them gave you the mental will to push past the pain? Weaker are you, or stronger, Obi-Wan, for knowing your feelings?"_

_He wished he knew…stronger, yes, happier, yes, yet struggling to live with those same feelings and all the confusion it engendered._

"_Is it that simple?" He arose and stood with hands clasped behind his back, facing out the shuttered transparisteel panel. Was much of his internal conflict now a result of a lifetime of training meeting head on with post-trauma awareness of his true human need to connect a bit deeper than he had allowed himself in years? _

_He murmured, "I thought my inconsistent connection to the Force was interfering with my emotional release, but it seems you are suggesting…?" He spread his hands wide as he turned to face Yoda._

"_As to be strong you had to find your weakness, to find your strength you had to learn to let go of the Jedi you had become and become the man you have always been. Found that man you have; now a better Jedi you will be. Balanced in heart and mind both. Believe this I do – believe you should as well. An even better servant to the Force this will make you."_

"_Don't flatter me, Master Yoda, I have many flaws and my share of failings," Obi-Wan countered. "As my padawan oftentimes reminds me."_

"_Padawans see the worst and best of their masters," Yoda reminded him with a grumble of remembrance. "If wise they are, speak they do of the good. If contentious they are, speak they do of the bad. If young they are, of both they speak at once." _

"_Oh, dear," Obi-Wan laughed, shaking his head. _

_Yoda grimaced; then grew grim and stared intently at Obi-Wan as the Jedi's grin gave way to apprehension. Yoda was very serious._

"_Dark times ahead, Obi-Wan, dark times. Uncertain is the future. Much pain and suffering ahead I see for us all." The little master's tone was tinged with the faintest of sorrow._

"_Yes, I sense it, too," Obi-Wan said quietly. _

"_The source I do not see, nor why, nor is it a future set in permacrete. Avoid it we might yet. If happiness you can find while still a good Jedi be – permission you have, if to the Force your deepest commitment remains. " _

_Nodding gently, the elder Jedi looked expectantly at the younger; much had been said in few words. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as the import sank in; he finally bowed his head in acknowledgement._

"_Know, Master, that my duty is as a Jedi first. If I cannot reconcile my heart and duty – I must be true to what I am and to the principles I hold most dear."_

_Yoda's eyes softened. "Know that I do, else to you I would not have spoken as I did. Had that not been so, lost to the dark you might have been, am I right? To your principles, to the Force, is your deepest loyalty and hence that light that shines within you even when tarnished it was by the evil done to you. An example you are, of the best a Jedi can be, though not perfect, we agree, eh?" _

_Both Jedi sat quietly; Yoda waiting patiently for Obi-Wan as he wrestled with his thoughts. He stared at his hands for a while before raising his eyes to Yoda's, mustering a small nod._

_The sight gentled Yoda's voice as few things would, and he touched the younger Jedi's knee with one claw._

"_Still that guilt you harbor, Master Obi-Wan? Jedi you are. Perfect you are not, perfect no Jedi is. Control every thing and avoid all disasters you cannot. No Jedi can. The loss of Jabiim, your capture, even your padawan's difficulties is not yours to shoulder. Shoulder the consequences you have, but the blame you should not. Blame young Skywalker would you?" _

_A startled exclamation negated that as Obi-Wan's head shot up. "No! But he's no Jedi master yet, let alone knight."_

"_Master Windu?"_

"_No." A decisive shake of his head followed that._

"_Master Kenobi?"_

"_No," Obi-Wan slowly blew out a breath. 'You know, Master Yoda, you missed your calling. A session with you is worth ten with a mind healer – I know – it's your many years of experience – over 800 I know."_

"_Flatter me you do, but pushing 900 I am, but not a day over 700 do I look," Yoda corrected, a glint of amusement mirroring that in the younger man's eyes. _

"_If only age brought wisdom to match for us all," Obi-Wan said ruefully. He rubbed his chin and sighed. "I do have this tendency, don't I?"_

"_Indeed, you do." Yoda chuckled at the half-shamed, half-amused expression spreading across Obi-Wan's face. "Your flaw it is; human it makes you, Obi-Wan. Accept that you should."_


	11. Nu Knowledge

**Chapter 11. Nu Knowledge**

Anakin flickered, his voice sometimes clear and sometimes clouded with static, indicating great distance. In the moments the transmission was clear his face wore a look of grim satisfaction.

"…traced to…my prisoner…never hurt you again, never hurt you – "

The angle of the holo-sensor was wide enough for Obi-Wan to catch a flicker of movement behind Anakin, a blur of red light.

"Look out!"

Red slashed through the spot where Anakin had been standing, but Anakin was no longer there, only the tip of his blue lightsaber, humming and motionless on the ground could now be seen. A body thumped to the floor, out of sight and the sound of triumphant breathing filled Obi-Wan's ears.

Then the transmission ended.

With a strangled gasp, Obi-Wan woke to hear his heart beating in his ears when he had thought them filled with gloating satisfaction. He wiped a trembling hand over his face; it came away damp, a trace of moist red shining wetly in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Red: the same color spilling over the ground in his dream.

And because it was only a dream, not reality, he did his best to slow the rapid thumping in his chest as his mind did its best to reassure his heart.

He slipped from his warm bed into Anakin's room and leaned against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around himself in the slight chill, reminding himself that his padawan had not died, nor had he killed. It was only a dream, it did not matter that he didn't even know whose blood had been spilled. The only blood that was real was the smear on his hand from the lip he'd bit; the hand that was ever so slightly trembling, even now.

After a long moment wrapped in the lingering Force presence of his absent padawan, the beating of his heart again normal, Obi-Wan pushed himself upright and made for the 'fresher to splash some water on his face. He hesitated as the com station blinked in night mode.

Shaking off a flash of fear that it was Anakin – his dream made real – he turned there instead and punched the button.

"Siri?"

"Kenobi – I, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay, just a little disturbed from a nightmare." He tried out a little smile; it felt normal. Apparently it didn't look so normal; Siri's eyes narrowed.

"I'll be right there. Your lip's bleeding, Obi-Wan."

"I'm fine, really, Siri. This one was about Anakin. No need to come down and start rumors of midnight assignations in the Temple."

A moment's hesitation, then she offered, "I could come stealth mode – then there'd be no rumors."

Siri's teasing had the desired effect, for Obi-Wan relaxed and grinned. He signed off with a firm, "No, Siri. Good night. See you in the morning."

**

By way of greeting, Siri walked up to him the next morning, took his head between her hands and stared critically at Obi-Wan's lips. "Hmm, I guess Bant doesn't need to slap a bacta patch on that." Confidentially, she whispered, "I could kiss it and make it better."

A midnight assignation would have been more private. The dining hall was currently occupied by a few hundred Jedi, and not a few were looking their way.

"Go 'way." Obi-Wan growled amicably, frowned as Siri only laughed and followed him through the meal line. They found seats at a nearly full table. Siri took a bite of food as Obi-Wan lifted a cup of caf.

"Ouch," he hissed as the hot liquid hit the bite.

"Here," Siri pushed a piece of fruit at him to cool the burn, only to have Obi-Wan yelp as the fruit acid only stung more. 'Oops."

The female Jedi dipped a napkin into water, leaned over the table and aimed for Obi-Wan's mouth as he reared back, not trusting her "tender ministrations," despite the look of pure contrition on Siri's face.

"Do try not to return Obi-Wan to the healers yet again, Siri," Bant said sternly, coming up behind the Jedi's shoulder and gently twisting his head to look at his lip. "Here, use a straw, Obi – whatever did you do to your lip? Even when Anakin got both of you in trouble that one time, you never bit your lip like that."

"Don't make my lips such a public spectacle!" He looked around the table and the other Jedi quickly turned their attention back to their own plates, except for Adi Gallia, two seats down.

Amusement was dancing in her eyes as Obi-Wan groaned and thought of sliding under the table or bolting for the door. He knew that look.

"Don't be shy, Obi-Wan; your lips are really quite nice, though not as nice as your eyes."

Passing by with an empty tray, Jocasta Nu stopped short, swiveled her head and said quite distinctly, "Ranked one hundred sixth-ninth in lips and first for eyes." She sniffed, lifted her chin and marched on without a further word as those within hearing gaped after her.

Once the shock of the archivist's words wore off, Siri smirked and whispered loudly, "She says the Archives _are_ very complete, you know," and then called after Jocasta as Obi-Wan slid down in his seat and tried to disappear, "personal taste or a poll?"

Despite a reputation for being a bit prickly and standoffish, Jocasta was doing her best to hide a small smile as she whirled and snapped, "Getting impertinent with me, Knight Tachi?"

She eyed Siri balefully as she turned back and stood above now-two embarrassed Jedi, studying Obi-Wan as Siri squirmed in her seat. Finally she growled, "I'd rank him higher, myself, but that's the ranking given by Temple scuttlebutt."

Ever the gentleman and experienced diplomat, Obi-Wan raised the archivist's hand to his lips and lightly dropped a kiss on it as Jocasta flushed and smiled, seemed to recall her reputation and stiffened, growling, "Don't practice your diplomatic skills on _me_, Master Kenobi," and marched away as the initiates and padawans further away craned their necks in an attempt to see what was causing the masters and knights further away to whistle in appreciation of some joke.

Siri shrugged and whispered, "Only one hundred sixth-ninth? Kenobi, you'd move up easily in the rankings just by kissing a few Jedi." She winked at her master as Bant giggled and the male Jedi all pretended to have developed a hearing loss.

Adi raised her glass in return salute to her padawan as Obi-Wan scowled, inwardly amused and somehow appalled, yet relieved that few Jedi had really witnessed that little incident. Siri had clearly spread the word that she thought he needed cheering up. He didn't, but he appreciated the thought, if not exactly the manner.

Now if he could just think of some way to get her back.

Trouble was, the only thing he could think of involved lips – hers and his.

**

"'Lips' Kenobi," Neille said cheerfully, walking into the office where Obi-Wan sat, fingering his lip and thinking dismally of all the jokes he was sure to endure for the foreseeable future. Council member or not, he'd just run a gauntlet of several adult female healers just to get here, all puckering up their lips with an offer to help him break into the "Top 100," not to mention that every padawan – male and female – were trying hard not to giggle when he walked past them.

"You, too?" Obi-Wan groaned. "The females are bad enough – and at least one of them didn't even have lips!"

"Lip appreciation is not confined to the female gender," Neille reminded him, "or apparently species with lips – or Nu?" He grinned as Obi-Wan grimaced. He added consolingly, "There are some cute babies down in Peds – a few might even give you a run for the credits. Why this one little one has lips like rosebuds, or so I've been told by one of the padawans."

"Ah," Obi-Wan brightened at the solution that presented itself, courtesy of Neille. "I could walk around with a baby in each arm until all the fuss dies down."

The healer merely shook his head, hiding another grin; after planting the idea that was most likely where the Jedi would be headed next. He would just caution Obi-Wan about actually following through on his threat - Obi-Wan's fatigue was far less an issue than before, but bouts still tended to sneak up on the Jedi unexpectedly, one reason the healers still had not given him a full medical release.

"No padawan shopping for you, my friend – you should be looking at the eight to ten year olds unless you're taking a very long view ahead to your third one."

"I have one and am perfectly happy with him," Obi-Wan grumbled. "In fact," he hesitated before adding reluctantly, "I've gotten rather accustomed to the anything-but-dull life that comes with being master to Anakin. I have to get used to the idea that it won't be long before he's out on his own."

"Feeling your age?"

"Mainly around Anakin," Obi-Wan admitted glumly. He shuddered slightly. "Were we all just as full of energy at his age?"

"Cheer up, Obi-Wan, it's the after-effects talking. Your body is still dealing with all the stress it went through, even if your mind has more-or-less come to terms with things. That's why I asked you to drop by – to review the test results."

"Found something?"

Neille hated to wipe off the hopeful look on the Jedi's face; the healers were well on the way to figuring everything out, they just weren't quite there yet.

"Nasty thing, that mask," Neille started off a bit slowly as Obi-Wan merely nodded in agreement. The Jedi had come a long way in a relatively short time, and while he seemed to tolerate the mention of the Sith mask without undue consternation, Neille figured it had to send internal tremors through him. It certainly wasn't anything Neille cared to contemplate, so it couldn't be easy for Obi-Wan, either.

"Your midis were damaged, Obi-Wan – they 'crash' periodically, and when they do, you lose your connection to the Force and/or fatigue overwhelms you. Or the reverse. They're like an energy cell that shorts out then cycles back up to power. No charge, no Force. It's a case of action and reaction and interrupting the cycle is going to be tricky; the problem is figuring out if the midis are triggered by, or are the triggers. You have synapses randomly firing and nerve impulses backfiring along with – I've lost you, haven't I? In short: we have made progress."

**

For some years now the Force had been whispering to Yoda; that was one of the reasons the Jedi had found time off and on to delve deep into the Archive's ancient texts. His search had been spurred as well by his interest in Knight Jayren Nolan's research into Jedi history.

War, the clouding of the Force, and Anakin Skywalker's vast potential and already great skills with the Force all seemed to point to one conclusion: the time was drawing ever nearer when the prophecy would prove false – or all too real.

The old master's latest discovery and partial translation of the same had pointed to a somewhat troubling adjunct to the prophecy of the "Chosen One."

So it was that Yoda finally decided to share his findings and thoughts on the same with Mace Windu as head of the Council. The implications needed to be reviewed, arguments made for or against and the possible validity of the texts questioned.

The two senior Jedi were conferring in Yoda's rooms as they did so often nowadays. There were always items to discuss and ramifications of actions to consider, for the Force was increasingly difficult to hear. War had stolen time, not just lives: there was less time to listen and less time to contemplate the Force.

"Difficult times coming, Master Windu, difficult." Yoda hobbled to a window and stared at the speeder traffic in the distance.

"More difficult than the times we currently find ourselves in?"

"If avert it, two men cannot. Skywalker – and Kenobi." Yoda turned and nodded at Mace. "Yes, a part of the Chosen One's prophecy, Obi-Wan might be. Incomplete the ancient texts are, but more fragments I have found."

"I'm not sure I entirely believe in any prophecies," Mace muttered, knowing that would come as no surprise.

Few, if any, Jedi were convinced of the validity or accuracy of any of the thousands of snippets of prophecy found in the vast archives. Ambiguous and easily misread, not to mention incomplete, and often contradictory, few sentient beings could count themselves true believers. Even Qui-Gon Jinn had expressed similar sentiments regarding various fragments found over the years, yet somehow the prophecy of the "Chosen One" had captured his imagination and mind as none other had done.

"Ignore at our own peril – believe you do not have to do. Act as if you believe you must, you should. Prepare for the worst and one cannot be taken by surprise; ignore the potential for disaster, be taken unawares."

Shaking his head, Mace took the offered datapad and read silently.

_One will walk in Light_

_One will walk in Darkness_

_A third shall walk between_

_His walk within them both_

_He who walks in Light_

_Walks not an easy path_

_He must reach within shadows_

_While holding true to Light_

_Guardian of the Force_

_The Fate of the One into his hands is given_

_To guard, guide and protect_

_To show the Force's true path_

_Shield of the Force_

_His task to illuminate the shadows _

_To stand between dark and light_

_He shall be strong enough to triumph, yet strong enough to fall_

"How promising," Mace muttered.

_Defender of the Light_

_His heart is his strength and his weakness both_

_Before it hate will crumble to dust_

_Or ignite to an inferno_

_Within his hands are many _

_Within his heart are all_

_Compassion and forgiveness_

_With his dying breath bequeaths _

_His heart will be his weapon_

_His faith will be his shield_

_His death shall be his ending_

_And the rekindling of the light_

_One l__ove might light the heavens, bring forth shadows into light_

_Yet another's might destroy them, bring darkness o'er all_

_Darkness will swallow Light and _

_Light will burn away Darkness_

_Yet with his dying breath he will rekindle_

_The dying candle flame_

_He who walks in shadows_

_Will walk once more in Light_

_Eternal is the Light_

_Aflame or snuffed out_

_Love can be one's salvation_

_Though the candle burns no more_

"And of course, fragments are missing. Love…bah," Mace grunted.

"Many prophecies there are," Yoda said gravely as Mace looked up. "Contradictory many are, yet always a special relationship with the Force Obi-Wan has had. Coincidence that master of the Chosen One he is? 'Fate of the One' to him is given?"

"Surely you don't – you do!" Mace shut his eyes, thinking furiously. "I'm no believer in random prophecies as you know, but – it sounds like this – 'guardian' you're suggesting Obi-Wan might be either sacrifices his life for the good of all, or fails at some task and has to endure long years of some 'darkness' before he dies, again, possibly in sacrifice."

"See such can you not?" Yoda bowed his head. He scratched his chin with one claw before glancing up at Mace with a slow blink of his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I can see Obi-Wan all too well in that role – more than I can see Anakin as the 'Chosen One' who balances the Force. That's why I hate prophecies – you can't make sense of them, they rarely predict anything positive, and smack of – of – gloom and doom. There are hundreds of prophecies in the Archives alone – not one of them predicts anything but trouble ahead."

"Mmm, true that is. To Obi-Wan we say nothing. A huge burden he carries already in training the Chosen One. To add to it I do not wish and no guidance does this prophecy give."

The Chosen One was also known as the beacon or the sword bearer, by various prophecies. There were other chosen as well: the Guardian, the Light, and the Shield, depending on which prophecy one read. Each had a part to play in bringing balance, according to some recently discovered texts that Yoda had barely skimmed through as yet. Many were unreadable, the translation imperfect and the hints tantalizing.

In some ways, Yoda was even less of a believer in prophecies than Mace Windu – over a course of a long life he had seen many predicted things come to pass, and many more not. Predictions and visions were often inaccurate and oftentimes vague enough that some might consider the prophecies fulfilled while others scoffed.

If an astounding midichlorian count was to be considered proof of Anakin Skywalker's role, Yoda was willing to concede that Obi-Wan Kenobi's firm adherence to the light was just as indicative of his potential to be part of a prophecy. Indeed, it was even possible that his role had not been intended, but a choice of the Force – the Guardian had not been born of the Force to be so, but born first and later judged worthy.

Or – it could be just another misread, misinterpreted prophecy with no bearing on the present.


	12. Future Considerations

**Chapter 12. Future Considerations**

Steady purpose and firm determination were Anakin Skywalker's companion on his quest to bring his master justice. He knew Obi-Wan had not gone into depth regarding his treatment in captivity, but he had finally shared his struggle with his padawan, in the process deepening Anakin's respect for the man.

Even now, admiration and awe at his master's struggles to adhere to the light dominated his thoughts. Despite pain and privation, despite drugs and despair, despite forced dark thoughts and deep fears, Obi-Wan had clung fast to faith – faith in the Force, in his padawan, and in his friends. He had held true to his principles, his mind, and his heart, yet fearing the dark tendrils that had threatened to strip all that he held dear away, he had sought to protect his padawan with silence and solitary healing.

_You should have trusted me, Master. _Yet, even with that thought,Anakin could not truly blame the man or feel resentment. Misguided though his master's attempt had been, his fears, unfounded or not, had been made based on what he thought best for his padawan. He could not fault his feelings, even if he could fault the reasoning.

Had he known, he could have offered solace and comfort for more than the nightmares alone. He could only thank the Force that Siri had found a way to reach the part of Obi-Wan the padawan could not.

He vowed to do all that was in his power to make his master whole once more, to present for justice those who knew nothing of mercy or fair play. He would repay his master's devotion to the padawan's well being with his own.

Once he found Ventress; once she found what she despised in principle: justice.

**

Two azure blades crossed and held steady; the two opponents exchanged a nod. Obi-Wan stepped back, pivoted, and swung, a feint to draw a thrust.

The exertion felt good; the muscles relatively loose even if not at full strength as yet. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on Obi-Wan's face as he parried Ki-Adi-Mundi's blade.

"Had enough, Master Kenobi?" The taunt was in jest, for neither was going at full speed.

"Not at all, Master Mundi." Obi-Wan's blade shot forward only to slash in a downwards diagonal. As Ki's blade moved to intercept, Obi-Wan brought his knee up, announcing his intentions by adding a wicked wink as he did. Ki spun to one side as Obi-Wan's lightsaber swept back up and moved to tap Ki's neck. A Force push knocked the blade aside as Obi-Wan scrambled to regain his balance.

He landed with a thump on the floor and shook his head, wincing a little.

"Ouch," Ki said sympathetically and offered his fellow Jedi a hand up. They each took a short rest to swallow a few sips of water before resuming positions.

"For an out-of-shape Jedi, you're doing a passable job."

"Spare me the compliments, my friend, so I can save my breath to fight rather than return your flowery praises."

"Tut, tut, Master Kenobi." Ki parried a thrust and feinted, grinning at Obi-Wan. "We should put you in with Knight Tachi's class, only I'd hate to see the padawans corrupted by listening to your thinly veiled insults and sarcasm."

"Very funny, Master Mundi," Obi-Wan grumbled, risking a slightly daring move. The purpose of the exercise, after all, was to strengthen his muscles and increase his stamina. In recognition of this, Ki didn't take advantage of the slight opening Obi-Wan left, satisfied with merely evading the strike without retaliation, which is why he looked surprised when Obi-Wan's lightsaber clattered to the floor of the sallé.

An almost comical look crossed Obi-Wan's face at the same time. He opened and closed his hand several times, working out some kinks. Catching his colleague's expression, he muttered apologetically, "I just lost my grip; my hand cramped up."

"It _was_ broken, and pretty badly at that," Ki reminded him. He laid a hand on his colleague's shoulder and studied him critically. "You look pretty beat, as well. You're not overdoing it, are you?"

"Me?" Obi-Wan was all innocence. He wiped his face with a towel, and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe a little."

He sagged onto a bench as his legs gave out. "Maybe a lot," he admitted, leaning back and closing his eyes. Hadn't Neille mentioned infants down in Peds - maybe he should go visit– perhaps - at nap time….

**

The young padawan he remembered from before greeted him as he walked into Peds, his hair a bit damp at the tips from his post-workout shower. Marla, he remembered her name now, bowed and asked him how he was; a pleased smile crossing her face at his reply or at his remembering her name, he wasn't sure which.

The young girl's bubbly spirit and infectious cheer was perfect for the Peds ward, and a welcome contrast to his own padawan's sometimes moodiness. Anakin had been bright and bubbly when he had first come to the Temple, though not without a streak of obstinate bravado that flashed at the oddest of times.

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wished that Qui-Gon had not spoken of the prophecy of the Chosen One in front of Anakin all those many years ago. A boy of nine should not have to bear the expectations of destiny on such young shoulders, but Qui-Gon's single-minded focus on seeing Anakin admitted for Jedi training had blinded him to the impact of his words to the boy on whom much was said to rest.

"I see none of them are fussing." Obi-Wan stood amongst the cribs, looking at the little faces, some scrunched in sleep while others were lax. Such little ones – so young, so untouched by other than the need to sleep, eat, and be taken care of.

He reached a finger down to the nearest child and ran it over the smooth cheek. The child sighed and nestled against the gentle touch.

"They're all slated for release to the crèche soon," Marla offered, coming to the Jedi's side. "All of these are new arrivals, here just to be checked out for any unforeseen health issues. Are you going to sing to them?" As soon as she asked, she looked embarrassed, remembering that his singing to the crechlings was supposed to be a secret – something commonly known in the Healers Ward but not referred to.

Obi-Wan looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps," he admitted. He sat in the empty rocking chair, chin in hand, and gazed at this next generation of servants to the Force. What challenges would they face, what rewards would they find, and what sacrifices would they be called on to make?

What kind of future would his generation bequeath, not just to these children but to all the other children in the galaxy?

That answer belonged only to the Force; in its hands alone. Prompted by the thought, Obi-Wan smiled and picked up a child at random. Reseating himself, he cradled the sleeping infant in one arm, gently stroking a downy cheek with one finger.

Holding the present in his hands, indeed.

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of future would these infant Jedi help to shape? Smiling gently, he began to hum under his breath. Soon, he too was asleep.

**

Anakin never tired of dropping out of hyperspace. Ribbons of light, a kaleidoscope of blurs would _pop_ out of existence to be replaced by the inky darkness of space illuminated only by star shine. Even Obi-Wan admitted to being spellbound by the beauty, something master and padawan shared.

"'Tis like being held in the palm of the Force," he had said once, a deprecating smile on his face. It was one of the first discoveries that a young boy had made about a new master: a spark of imagination and love of beauty was only masked by the quiet and usually less expressive exterior.

"It's wizard!" Anakin had agreed.

"Wizard indeed." A strong hand had tousled his hair, bringing a yelp of protest for Anakin was not a boy – no – he was a Jedi padawan. Protests had done no good; Obi-Wan would tousle his hair or later, tug his braid when it grew, at his own whim.

Just a few degrees off "straight ahead," with only a minor course reflection necessary, shone Riflor in a system of three suns.

Anakin's lips tightened. _Here's where I was reunited with my master._ He tried to focus on the positive, on the elation and relief he had felt when he had first laid eyes on his master. Swinging his blade, undeterred by the band of bounty hunters surrounding Alpha and he, yet Obi-Wan's eyes had lit up at his first sight of his padawan, even if his first words had been far more prosaic, intent on battle tactics.

"For you, Master," he muttered, gave a gentle tug on his braid, and for a moment almost imagined he heard an echo of a muffled laugh.

He dropped into the gravity well and into orbit. He didn't need the coordinates; he merely needed to follow the lingering notes of fear and relief in his memory.

Artoo tootled a sharp note. Anakin flipped the sensor toggle and magnified the display; Artoo was right. The fan fighter was not lying broken and crumpled where it had come to rest, though the skid marks were there marking the ship's rough landing.

It would not have flown again. The two padawans had done a thorough inspection once they'd copied the computer data before returning to Coruscant in Ki-Adi-Mundi and Anakin's fighters. They had been instructed to leave as little trace of their presence as possible other than a few sensors.

Anakin's brow wrinkled.

"Do you see a debris field, Artoo?"

At the affirmative toot, a tight grin crossed the young Jedi's face. "Destroyed. Perhaps they don't even realize Obi-Wan is alive – I wonder if that's why the Council hasn't announced his return. We were in-system not long after they crashed; let's see how close we can pinpoint the approximate time of the ship's destruction. Check as well if the ship was destroyed from above or by ground charges – yeah, I want to know if they got close enough to know whether or not there were bodies in the ship."

After a whistling query, Anakin grinned. "Artoo, unless they gathered DNA samples, they wouldn't know the two bodies Alpha dragged in there weren't Obi-Wan and Alpha, let alone human. That means Ventress won't know that we know about Rattatak – yeah, I know she was reported to be seen elsewhere, but that doesn't mean the reports are correct."

The toot sounded remarkably like the rising inflection that marked a question in Basic.

"They were good enough to get the Council to agree to this mission, but the Chancellor wasn't convinced of the accuracy, either. He knew how important this mission was to me, so he had the source discreetly checked out. It's reliable enough, often enough - no, neither of us passed that on to the Council. We wanted them to approve this mission, Artoo. It's important, very important – it's to protect Obi-Wan."

_Blurp_.

"He can usually protect himself, yes, but not always. You saw him when we rescued him –"a mournful warble was mirrored in Anakin's eyes as his jaw tightened. "Never again, Artoo, never again…."

**

Ever since Obi-Wan's impossible return from the dead, Siri had felt the need to spend however much time she could in his company. What had nearly come to pass could still easily come to pass, for him or for her. Time together was to be savored, hoarded against separation, for separation _would_ come.

He would return to war; she would, as well, in time. One of them, or both, might not return one day.

So like a moth drawn to flame, Siri had once again sought her fellow Jedi out. Since his return, he spent much time with the younger Jedi, working out, or meditating in the gardens. Of necessity, the female Jedi had grown to know his routine. She knew the crechlings story hour and the schedule for the classes in diplomacy Obi-Wan guest lectured in, so the odds were at all other times he was here, immersed in the Living Force that he found so soothing.

Joyful shrieks of younglings learning small manipulations of the Force in guise of play melded with the soft sighing of an artificial breeze interweaving through tree branches.

Undeterred, several adult Jedi sat in meditation or walked the meandering paths in search of a few moments peaceful contemplation before returning to duties.

Amidst all this, the two Jedi wandered side by side, only their two hands occasionally brushing against the other, fingers occasionally entwining if for just a moment. Even without the concealment of Jedi cloaks, neither was willing to display the affection between them nor deal with the consequences should they be seen openly holding hands, though this decision was more from habit than conscious choice.

Too many younglings, initiates and padawans were apt to wander past, here in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – too many impressionable minds to confuse and too many questions possibly raised.

"How's Terzah doing?" Siri ventured to break the peaceful quiet between them, sensing that Obi-Wan was mulling something over in his mind.

"He's young and resilient, he's doing quite well," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "He's starting to turn his confusion and frustration at what happened to him into compassion for those who turned on him."

They reached the bench below the Haleothe vine; Siri sat, but to her surprise, Obi-Wan did not. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared a bit absently at a group of young initiates off in the distance, practicing their burgeoning skills at manipulating small rocks.

"Anakin was about that age when he became my apprentice," he murmured. "By the time he was officially my padawan at thirteen he had the skills of a much older padawan. He was enthusiastic and eager to learn. Not much more than a year later he hit puberty and decided he had the maturity to challenge me on the pace and scope of his lessons. I wonder if I was that irksome to Qui-Gon."

"You had your moments, Kenobi. As did I, and every other adolescent in the Temple, I suppose. Probably even Yoda in his youth as well – can you imagine Yoda muttering 'understand me, you do not, master,' while sulking?"

One of the biggest grins she had ever seen graced Obi-Wan's face as he pictured that scene. "Now there's a holovid I'd like to see."

After a moment, Obi-Wan shook his head, turned and gazed down at Siri, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "Did you ever worry about being chosen – as a padawan?"

Sensing her friend was going somewhere with his questions, not just on journey into the past, Siri gave the question due thought. "Mmm, wondered, like I suppose we all did, but actually worry – no. In my naiveté, or perhaps arrogance, I expected to have my choice of masters. Adi began to watch me about the time I was eleven, I think; I was not much past twelve when she asked me to be her padawan. Why?"

She was indeed curious.

Obi-Wan never really spoke about his late initiate years, merely alluded to them in passing. It had taken years to see that underneath the cool and competent exterior he cultivated, seemingly without effort, there had once lurked a boy certain of his life path yet uncertain of his place within the Order that would help him achieve it. He had been a boy who longed for acceptance and validation and seemed to receive neither one.

Like most of those within the Temple, she had barely noticed his departure for Bandomeer, his absence of little note and that mainly in the form of relief that it was he, not one of they, who had been un-chosen.

"Because we all want to become a Jedi knight; that's the goal nearly every one of us strives for. It's what our training pushes us towards as well, but not all of us are suited to be knights, and not all of us will get that opportunity. Of that group, there…," he fell silent.

"We've lost a lot of Jedi to this war," Siri said quietly, sensing the direction of his thoughts. She sat up straight and stared at Obi-Wan in consternation. "You want me to consider taking a padawan!"

"What? No." He looked truly surprised. "It wouldn't be a bad idea, though."

"I'm going to go back to the war soon; I can't stay and teach in the Temple forever. A battlefield is no place for a young padawan!"

"Nor for older ones, either!" he shot back.

Now she was getting confused, he was not trying to cajole her into taking a padawan. This was a deeper discussion, one that of necessity delved into old issues he usually avoided because it had a bearing on what he really wished to sound her out on.

Sudden revelation dawned. "You're worried about Anakin."

"Of course I'm worried about Anakin, but I'm not talking about my padawan, actually. I'm – I'm just concerned about the future, for the Jedi, for all the beings affected by this war, the repercussions that linger long after the fighting ends. Are you up on the latest casualty counts – the Jedi, the clones, the civilians? Imagine Coruscant deserted – not one living being left alive on this entire planet and you've barely begun to imagine all those who have already died – or those who will."

His eyes wandered back to the group of chattering younglings.

Now thoroughly confused, Siri pulled Obi-Wan down beside her and patted his arm. 'Your point, Kenobi?"

"Decisions we face, Siri. Either we make them, or sit back and allow them to be made for us, either by action or inaction. Better to face those decisions."

"Ah, you're wrestling with some decisions, then. I begin to understand. Council business?"

"It will be, I believe." He looked directly at her and seemed to come to a decision. "Do you think you could have become a knight without a master, could you have eventually learned some of the skills we had to master without a training bond or a rudimentary one?"

Siri's eyes widened as she took in the import of his words. "Oh. In all honesty, Kenobi, I don't know. We can try, though. What have we got to lose?"

"Half a generation of future Jedi knights," he said in all solemnity.


	13. Let Sleeping Jedi Lie

**Chapter 13. Let Sleeping Jedi Lie**

One pleasurable aspect of Obi-Wan's medical leave and Siri's Temple duty that coincided with the same was the opportunity to both enjoy his home cooked meals and

to spend time together with close friends, the only family that Jedi had. Bant and Adi had joined them this evening, though Bant's evening meal break had ended, necessitating her return to the Healers Ward some time before.

Adi had left not much after.

"Okay, Kenobi, just like the other night, this was really good. When did you learn to cook like _this_?" Siri was helping clear the small table, despite Obi-Wan's protests.

"I'm indulging in a break from field rations, remember them? Nutritious and nearly tasteless?" He grinned as Siri made a face. Several of the non-human species adored the human rations, but few humans. The only good thing anyone had said about them was that they beat Yoda's stew.

He grew serious. "About the time I became a senior padawan. Qui-Gon was afraid I'd starve away from the dining hall, so he insisted I learn how to cook. I, of course, thought he only wanted a break from those times we ate in our quarters. His cooking was – memorable, at best."

"You still miss him, don't you?"

"I do." He looked at her, then away. "I will always miss him, but I accepted his death long ago. Once I rid myself of the hope that it was all a dream, that he'd be there to – to cut my braid off – maybe once I stopped feeling that darn braid as an invisible accoutrement, I fully accepted it."

His voice was misty with memories, but he suddenly smiled. "After my friends half tore a hole in my head. By the way, just which one of you thought to tell my padawan that Qui-Gon loved to call me an 'impudent padawan?' Poor Anakin, he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of me as 'impudent' to anyone."

"Well, you aren't that impudent padawan anymore, reckless and full of fire. You're a calm and serene Jedi master who never gets flustered."

"Or one who hides it well." He grinned at her. "Anakin would have aged anyone; I had to learn to look stern and patient quite quickly with him, and you know what they say, play a role long enough it becomes yours. Think long enough about something and you begin to think it might happen -." He broke off and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable as he realized how close together they were standing.

"Your face is looking better," Siri said, her fingers drifting up and brushing against the long faded bruise, unaware of his discomfort. "I do wish you had retained that clean shaven look…" she broke off, startled, as her fingers brushed Obi-Wan's lips, for he gently kissed them, though he made no other move towards her. His eyes fixed on hers with a quiet intensity that held her silent.

"I thought of you – there – you helped me keep my sanity, Siri," he said, carefully choosing his words. "My thoughts weren't always – appropriate – considering how we parted years ago, or why, either then, or," he paused, smiled crookedly, "or now. This is where you slap my cheek, if my words are offensive to you."

Siri put on a look of mock-horror. "Come here then, and take your punishment." She leaned forward and kissed him, her hands tangling in the soft waves of his hair. She kept it gentle and tender, at first; smiled when Obi-Wan surfaced with a gasp a moment later.

"Wh…what just happened?" he stuttered, but his eyes were crinkling, a sure sign he wasn't as confused as he appeared.

"I kissed you," Siri said airily. "Your turn."

"Oh." Obi-Wan just looked at her, and then he smiled just as Siri was wondering just how he would react, for the kiss had ended rather more passionate than it had begun. With few exceptions, all the kisses Obi-Wan had given her had been gentle and tender, making her weak in the knees but hardly gasping for breath.

He leaned forward, cupped her face within strong hands and they kissed again, one that lingered a while. "I have to admit I like this."

Siri could tell he still held back, for other than brushing her face with a finger as he straightened up, he made no move to embrace her or otherwise deepen the contact between them. He had, however, given more of himself than he had ever before, for it was more than just a kiss between friends even if not quite that of lovers.

It was enough for the moment. In some ways she was just as uncertain about acting on her feelings as he was. As Jedi, both were too used to controlling and releasing their emotions to easily set self-imposed restraints aside. Perhaps it would be best for them to be together only in dreams.

They finished clearing the table and taking care of the leftovers in companionable silence. Once they finished, they moved to the couch in tandem rather than taking separate seats. Siri leaned against Obi-Wan's shoulder as an arm hesitantly came around her. She looked up to see twinkling eyes – the dark shadows of only a few weeks ago seemed a distant memory.

They sat comfortably for a long time, nestled against each other.

"What are you thinking? I'm thinking I'm surprised – and pleased – to see this side of you. You've loosened up. Yoda has gotten you to think a bit differently about – well, us, hasn't he?"

Obi-Wan looked down at her upturned face and sighed. "I'm thinking that I don't know anything right now. That I'm trying to find my place again, find myself. I'm not the same man who left here. I don't know if I'll meet him again, or if I should even try. I find out that I still love you, and you me, and we knew we could never be together and remain Jedi. Now, I don't know what decisions we're facing, or if we even are…."

"Are you questioning – whether you are or should be a Jedi?"

He couldn't be, could he? While one could still be a servant of the Force, Jedi or not, Obi-Wan took his vows seriously. He was the very epitome of a Jedi, principled and compassionate. If nothing else, he would not dream of leaving – not with a padawan not yet trained to knighthood or in the midst of a war for democracy itself. Obi-Wan would not – could not – walk away, even for love.

He stood up and walked away from her, stood before the window, currently displaying the imminent sunset. He shook his head and turned to face her, putting some space between them but not closing himself off by crossing his arms but allowing them to hang by his side.

"No. No, I'm a Jedi down to my core. I know what I am, nothing can take that from me, and that and the Force will always come first. But who I am – who Obi-Wan Kenobi is – that I'm no longer so sure about." His eyes searched hers; waited for she knew not what, before he seemed to gather his courage to continue.

"First Ventress toys with me, then Yoda and Mace both seem to encourage me to – well – be open to what I feel…and then I find myself here with you kissing me – me kissing you – wanting to - to make love to you and feeling that the Force isn't objecting, either – Siri, all of this is new to me. I find it strange and confusing – I'm not comfortable with myself or my thoughts, however pleasant. Does that make any sense?"

"I think so." Her heart had leapt at that admission, accompanied by a slight flush of his cheeks. It had been the first time Obi-Wan had put his wishes into words, even if hesitantly so. It was a small step forward. "Do you want me to leave?"

He shook his head and said simply, "No. Please stay. It's nice to have your company."

Siri nodded in understanding. It could have been an awkward moment; she found it incredibly intimate for the emotional honesty bequeathed her. She rose and came to stand at his side, respecting his confusion and not touching him. "Then I will."

A small smile touched his lips; she was right, it wasn't awkward at all. They were past that, even if feeling their way, together, towards a redefinition of their friendship.

"Do you mind if we watch the sun set? I think it's going to be a pretty one tonight."

Siri didn't understand the wistful tone, but it didn't matter. It mattered to Obi-Wan, so it mattered to her. "Not at all."

She put an arm around Obi-Wan and guided him back to the couch where they could watch the few clouds flare into shades of gold and saffron.

"You know, Qui-Gon and I always tried to watch the sunset together," he said quietly. "We'd find a balcony and lean on the railing, just the two of us and the setting sun – the last time was when Anakin was being tested by the Council."

He leaned against her shoulder as her fingers played through his hair. "He put his hand on my shoulder – that was one of the last times I felt his touch. He didn't touch me – there in the Council chamber – only Anakin, only to wipe away that pain when he touched my face as he lay dying in my arms."

That explained a lot, Siri thought, leaning her head against his. Touches had been rare treasures, meaningful because they were not casual. This quiet, reserved man who often seemed little touched by life's wounds hid an expressive soul deep within his core. As Obi-Wan was wont to do, he had found a way to turn pain and disappointment into a source of peaceful memories, he remembered Qui-Gon with fondness, even remembering his dying gesture as one of affection being bestowed.

"He loved you; you do know, despite how he almost ignored you once he'd found Anakin." She felt Obi-Wan nod against her. "He knew you loved him, as well. Now you've got Anakin, and he loves you, too. Even if you will only admit to being fond of him, he knows you love him, too."

"That scares me, sometimes," he murmured. "He loves too well. He'll risk much to save those whom he loves, even at the cost of the greater good, perhaps, even, disregarding the will of the Force."

"Not if he's the Jedi you've been training him to be," Siri ruffled his hair, thick and silky against her fingers. "So how come Anakin never keeps you company – oh, that boy does never just sit, does he?"

Obi-Wan's hand found her free hand and he laced his fingers through hers as he laughed.

"No, Anakin never cared to carry on the tradition, so I would just find a balcony and watch the sunset, alone. Sometimes, I used to think Qui-Gon's spirit was standing beside me, an arm around my shoulders, but even with the Force for company – it felt lonely, so I gave it up."

"For Anakin."

"For new routines, for a new master with a new padawan," he corrected. "After a time I stopped missing the old routine. Life changes and we have to change with it, we both know that."

"I suppose that's true."

He twisted around and looked up at her, a small half-smile on his face as if he were well aware he had been indulging in memories of the past. He settled back against her shoulder and murmured, "Sometimes, however, it's nice to revisit the past, so occasionally I will sit and watch the sunset."

For such a seemingly practical and unimaginative Jedi, Obi-Wan had a sentimental streak in him that he didn't usually indulge. Siri found it endearing.

He was quiet for a while before adding, "It's nice to have someone with me for once. It's nice not to be alone. That day is coming all too soon."

"Silly. How can you be alone? You've got all the Jedi."

He was silent a long time, and when Siri looked at his eyes, she shivered. Ancient, weathered eyes, unblinking and unfocused – haunted and lonely, yet steady and determined. Eyes that had looked upon eternity – and then he blinked and the eyes were once again those of her Obi-Wan, gentle and fixed upon hers with a quizzical frown as if he was unaware of his words or the impact it had on her.

Maybe he saw into a future so tragic that the memory was denied to his conscious thought, an aching sorrow that he didn't hear or see. His next words seemed to confirm her deduction, for they were not laced with the sadness and despair she had glimpsed in the depths of his eyes, but were light and laced with a hint of humor.

"A vision. An old man, though I'm not so sure about that, alone in the barren wilderness with nothing but the wind for company."

"A vacation from your padawan, huh?" By the time Anakin was a knight, Obi-Wan would need a break. Mentoring the "Chosen One" was no easy task, frustrating and rewarding both, as she heard more than once over a cup of tea.

"Perhaps." Obi-Wan shrugged, laughing softly. "There's never any context; I don't see anything more than that – nothing about how I feel or how long I'm there. Perhaps it's a hide and seek exercise for my next padawan – who knows – but one might think I might have chosen a more – pleasant – planet."

"So, you're going to take another padawan someday?"

His answer came without much thought, as if either he or his subconscious had considered the idea for some time and come to a conclusion.

Not withstanding the difficulties he and Anakin had gone through, Obi-Wan enjoyed teaching. He had occasionally quipped that he had learned enough from Anakin in just one year to know that by the time of Anakin's knighting he was certain to be an outstanding teacher the second time around, especially with a padawan of his choice – one with enough of Anakin's spark to keep life from being dull.

"I suppose so. I've survived Anakin so far. He once asked me that same question. I told him nothing changes until – and perhaps everything – after the war is over. If we hold to the one master, one apprentice rule at the rate we're losing Jedi – everything hinges on this war – how long it lasts and what damage it does. Ah well, always in motion is the future as our esteemed Master Yoda preaches. Look – there goes the sun below the horizon."

He fell silent, focused wholly on the scene before him.

Siri looked at his face, serene and peaceful as rose and gold bathed his face in soft hues, the color glinting in his eyes. Now she understood the importance of this sunset to him.

He had been wrestling with his recovery – mental, physical and emotional –since his return, but the fight had been largely internal. That fight had been largely won, but it was not totally vanquished, not yet. To anyone else, he appeared all but recovered. Tonight, the sunset and memories of a simpler time – before death came close, before war, before his captivity – tonight the sunset had touched a chord in him and soothed some of the lingering aches, a benediction to his wounded soul. It had healed some of the wounds.

The Force would allow these to heal before the next round of wounds. There would be more, perhaps far more injurious to the mind, in the future, Siri somehow knew. With equal certainty, she suspected she wouldn't be there to share it, or to hold Obi-Wan close.

_The Force will always protect and comfort him._ _Tonight, he is mine_. She leaned her head against his shoulder as his arm came around her and he laid his cheek against hers.

They sat there long after the sunset faded to the lighted brilliance of a Coruscant night, fingers entwined.

**

Stifling a soft yawn, Siri patted Obi-Wan's face and murmured, "Unless you want me to stay the night, I probably should go before I fall asleep and tumble into your arms, Kenobi."

When he didn't answer, Siri glanced at him, only to see that his eyes were closed and he was breathing in the even rhythm of sleep. His head still lay against her shoulder and he looked peaceful and untouched by recent horrors.

She dropped a soft kiss on his head. "Aw, Kenobi, I guess I'll stay for a while longer. The least you could have done was ask me, though."

With a slight shift of position, the Jedi was soon stretched out on the couch, his head in her lap as Siri settled in against the corner and merely watched the man she love sleep so contentedly.

The fingers of one hand continued to brush through his hair as the other reclaimed the one opposite her. This sleeping man looked like the Obi-Wan she knew from before; before war, before Jabiim, before his captivity, untouched by sorrow and horror. The spirit of that man, no matter how battered, remained strong.

"Sleep well, my darling," she whispered, well aware it was the first and no doubt last time she would ever utter such an endearment. It felt right, this time, in this place, keeping watch over one who normally needed no one to watch over him.

Loathe to disengage and even more loathe to leave, eventually Siri smiled and slipped down to lie beside him, wrapping her arms around him and pillowing his face against her chest. The beat of his heart seemed to be the pulse of the Force, steadfast and true.

The self-imposed rigid bars of duty and restraint seemed to be slowly dissolving, freeing the Jedi from his self-imposed emotional exile from others; for it was not just in sleep that he now reached out to others; Obi-Wan had loosened up to an astonishing degree but Siri wasn't sure how much of what he had held to be true for so long would be affected.

He had allowed Siri to show some affection and even returned it, but it never lasted long and she wondered if he was uncomfortable or felt regrets for those times. She was not going to push him; if she pushed too hard, she might only push him away.

She would only give as much as he would take, and only take as much as he would give, no matter how little or how much, and be happy with that.

She would not risk ever hurting him a second time. She would trust the Force to guide them both to the best expression, or lack of, of their mutual affection – to give each of them the wisdom and knowledge to do what was right even should that mean remaining apart.

His hand grasped onto her sleeve and a sigh of contentment escaped his lips as her arms tightened around his shoulders, as much to keep him from falling onto the floor as to hold him. This was not the most comfortable of positions but there was no place she would rather be.

If she was too stiff and sore to move in the morning, well then, perhaps she would just have to remain in place with her arms around a sleeping Jedi, his soft breathing tickling at her neck.

The steady beat of his heart was soothing, so after planting another gentle kiss against the top of his head she closed her eyes and just listened to the rhythm of his heart beating against hers…

…Siri jumped when fingers dug into her arms, wakening her. Opening her eyes, she found Obi-Wan still sound asleep, his breath ragged and sharp as a hint of distress twisted through the Force. She gentled a caress of fingers against his face; it was damp to her touch. _Oh, Obi-Wan! I thought you were now free of the nightmares._

Even with the touch, he didn't wake. A whisper of the Force nudged the nightmare away with a calming sleep suggestion and he relaxed against her, fisting one hand in the neck of her tunic as if he were a child seeking comfort. She, however, had rather more adult thoughts; no doubt spurred by the feel of the weight of his body half upon her.

The morning's light was creeping in the holo-panel, clearly set to catch the transitioning day, when a slight rustling awoke Siri. Obi-Wan was blinking at her in confusion, and she realized they had slept the night away in each other's arms on the couch.

"Good morning," Obi-Wan whispered, raising himself on one elbow. He was looking down at her a bit sheepishly, though his eyes were dancing. "I'm afraid you made rather a nice pillow."

"So did you." Siri reached up and brushed a strand of hair from his eyes. "It's kind of nice waking up with you beside me, all nice and warm, though this couch is a bit narrow for two as my back is telling me."

"I know," and the warmth in his eyes was rather surprising. "Would you like some breakfast? I make a mean morning meal, despite what Anakin may have told you."

"I don't think he's ever spoken of your culinary capabilities, or even your sleeping patterns, though I thought once he complained of your snoring. You didn't last night."

"Er, well," Obi-Wan faced her, a pot of caf in his hand ready to pour, looking a bit guilty. "He snores. I learned a long time ago to erect this Force shield that turned his snoring back against him so that he was the only one to hear it. He'd kill me if he knew that since I'm the one that preaches no unnecessary or trivial use of the Force, though if you heard him, you'd know it was necessary. You won't tell him, will he?"

The look on his face was so sheepish that Siri agreed to keep his secret, secretly hoarding the knowledge for the time it might come in useful. Even a Jedi knew a little blackmail might come in handy sometime.


	14. Flak

**Chapter 14. Flak **

"Now isn't this a delightful welcome! Look, Artoo, fireworks!"

The Jedi's apparent delight did not extend to his astromech droid, considering the rude electronic shriek that greeted that pronouncement.

Anakin's mission to Rattatak did not appear to be starting off well – missiles and cannons had turned the atmosphere below into a lethal game of dodge and twist. He had dropped in at an inopportune time: in the middle of open warfare. As an internal struggle between warlords in the power vacuum left by Ventress' exit and the mass prison break of her opposition, danger was presumed to come from within, not from without.

Planetary defenses were not set to pick up ships arriving from hyperspace, for the battle raged on the planet's surface and in the atmosphere. Anakin had gone undetected when he shot into normal space outside the gravity well of the planet.

"Artoo, we're going to sneak in quietly, but be prepared," Anakin told his droid. "Looks like they're not expecting company, so it should be easy."

That was an optimistic assessment, even for Anakin Skywalker, but not unreasonable. It would be difficult, but not impossible, to penetrate the planet's atmosphere without being knocked out of the sky. In the cockpit of his fighter, Anakin grinned and prepared for some fun. This would require superb skill and reflexes, just his type of flying. Were Obi-Wan with him, he was sure the Jedi would be muttering his infamous; "This is why I hate flying."

Anakin had never understood why: his master had excellent skills and impeccable timing, for they were the same skills needed in lightsaber combat. He had only come to a hazy conclusion that Obi-Wan felt that operating machinery left him in less than one hundred percent control, that he wasn't sure the ship would always obey his commands.

No matter, he was alone now. The smile faded from his face.

Alone, because the woman who tortured his master had done such a good job of it that Obi-Wan would be in no condition to go on any missions for a while.

He had been so certain, once, that when Obi-Wan was rescued, that all would soon be okay. His fears would dissipate; his master's suffering would be over.

It had proven not to be.

It had taken time for Obi-Wan to heal from the scars – mental and physical, and while that recovery was nearly complete, the effects would linger for some time still. The healers had made that very clear to those who knew him best, for a patient all but well was well in his own mind well before his healing was complete.

So it was that after facing and releasing all that he had endured, Obi-Wan had expected to endure no moments of less than perfect serenity, such as when discussing Anakin's mission. Anakin winced, just remembering.

It had gone wrong nearly from the beginning when he had first broached the idea; his master's reaction had been emotional, vehement and angry, rather than the reflective and measured contemplation he had anticipated.

Obi-Wan hadn't wanted Anakin to go on this mission.

They had argued about it with some heat, with Obi-Wan arguing that Anakin's mind wasn't clear, that capturing Ventress was not the top priority of the Jedi, and that Anakin was on a personal quest not an official mission.

He had gone absolutely thin-lipped with barely repressed anger when Anakin smugly informed him he had already spoken to members of the Council and had preliminary approval. With a withering stare of disapproval, he had turned without a word and taken off, and Anakin realized just how thin his master's control was.

His own anger and worry didn't stop him from heading off to do some sparring, to blow off some steam of his own. He was going to finish off this confrontation but after they had both calmed down. When he returned, Obi-Wan was standing in front of the window with his back to the door, hunched and bone weary in posture. He had looked even more weary when he turned and faced Anakin, arms crossed tightly in front of him.

Without preamble, Obi-Wan had said, "Anakin, forgive my outburst earlier, please. I was out of line. I am greatly troubled by this assignment; I had no right to be angry or take it out on you."

"Do you think I am incapable of handling it?" He was not going to soften, no matter how pained or worried his master looked until they had had this out, so he kept his face stern and unyielding when he wanted to lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it, to let his master know that his padawan was there for him.

"Incapable, no." Obi-Wan seemed to realize how tightly he was holding himself, he sighed and uncoiled and dropped into a seat, rubbing his chin. "I fear for you – losing you. Ventress is a formidable opponent and you barely escaped her once. That is no reason to hold you back. As a Jedi I know this. I would let you go, if that was my only objection. However, I do not think it necessary or wise to pursue her at this time, so needlessly risking you is not something I wish to do."

The knot in Anakin's stomach loosened. He walked over and dropped to his knees in front of his master, summoning all his confidence. "I will be okay, Master, trust me. Trust in the Force. There is no way I am going to let her escape justice for what she did to you, and I do understand why you were so upset. You're not yourself, yet and I truly appreciate your concern."

"Your compassion does you credit, Padawan. Never lose it. I shall still argue against this when it comes up before the entire Council, but you know you have my support always. Be careful, and do try to restrain your recklessness. Ventress will take advantage of any weakness. Show none; have none, and you will be victorious."

One hand came up and grasped the padawan's shoulder, the gesture expressing so much more than the words alone that Anakin swallowed a sudden lump in his throat as he reached to cover that hand and pat it.

"Then I shall pretend I have none and do not care what she did to you, Master."

Obi-Wan blinked as if unsure of what he had heard, no doubt expecting a smart remark like, "I have no weaknesses," for such would normally be Anakin's response. For the first time, he relaxed and smiled, even if the smile was a bit strained and the words soft and thick with emotion. "Thank you, Padawan, as I shall pretend I will not worry until you return home safe from this mission."

"Obi-Wan Kenobi not worry – impossible." Anakin flashed an impish grin, incredibly touched, as he stood. "But I am honored that you will consider hiding it. How about something to drink? Caf, tea – or something stronger?"

With drinks in hand they had sat in companionable silence, their earlier tension evaporated as it never was. No danger loomed; Master and Padawan were together having a quiet evening with nothing to disturb them for once, relaxed in each other's company.

Life had been good.

Life would remain good; Obi-Wan would remain safe.

"You're going to be safe, Master," Anakin had vowed silently, keeping his thoughts hidden behind shields. "Forever safe from her, once I find her."

He had vowed that, that evening at the Temple, now he was renewing that vow as he prepared to land on Rattatak. He was going to assure that life remained good; he was going to save his master from the threat of Asajj Ventress, for the threat would remain as long as she remained alive.

He would do anything to protect his loved ones, to protect them.

Anything.

**

Obi-Wan did his best to appear attentive, though his shoulders were slumped and his chin rested on one hand. His eyes were directed at the speaker and focused behind, through the large window at the Coruscant skyline beyond.

The debate had taken a lot out of Obi-Wan. As point man for the proposal, he had been countering various objections, most based on "tradition." He was one of the first to admit he tended to tradition over innovation, but a tendency was merely that – he was more than willing to entertain the concept of innovation and often adopted such a stance once he had been persuaded of its merits.

Persuading some of his colleagues of those merits had proven difficult.

Now that the Council meeting had moved on to other topics, he had given only surface attention to the current issues of discussion, a finger tapping on one knee. He had stopped as soon as he had noticed Yoda's fierce stare. A Jedi should not be prone to nervous gestures, if nervous it was.

He was, as well, worried about Anakin who had not reported in since he had left just days ago. He was distracted on a number of levels, and he had been unable to keep it hidden.

He shook his head and silently sighed; he needed to get a hold of himself and let his worries into the Force where they belonged. Fidgeting, especially by one a master for some years now, was just not done.

He pinched his nose as the voices washed over him, strangely disappointed in the weak victory for his proposal.

A partial victory was better than no victory at all, he had to admit.

After a fractious meeting, it had been unenthusiastically agreed that the initiates nearing thirteen years of age would remain in the Temple rather than being reassigned to one of the service corps if not chosen as padawans. Yoda had been right: contentious the debate had indeed been: the outcome a grudging agreement that temporary accommodations had to be allowed due to the war and lack of potential masters.

It had taken all of Obi-Wan's persuasive skills and Yoda's firm backing to swing the votes necessary. In retaliation, perhaps, it was Obi-Wan who was given the assignment of overseeing the implementation of his own plan.

Allowed only limited participation in Council meetings as yet, Obi-Wan had wished to excuse himself from the remainder of the meeting after presenting his proposal, but the unexpected departure of two masters present via hologram to deal with a battlefield situation had necessitated his remaining in order for the Council to have a quorum.

Remain he had.

Fingering his lip, Obi-Wan sighed deeply; well aware of the tension building within him. Cielan was right –it was too soon to be participating in a full meeting.

His dissatisfaction with the Council's decision to send Anakin after Ventress still rankled him, more than it should considering the decision had been made a number of days prior.

His dissatisfaction with that decision added to this earlier debate had translated into an edginess and irritation that bothered Obi-Wan as much for his inability to fully release the emotions as with the cause of them. Knowing situations such as this was but one reason the mind-healers had not released him to full duty yet did not at all mitigate the effects.

Perhaps it was the Force prickling at his nerves; it fluctuated more frequently, now, as the healers worked on interrupting the cycle that so disrupted his midichlorians.

Just as the healers weren't saying much, the mind healers weren't saying that much either except that they weren't releasing him from limited Temple duty, either. "You need more time to fully process everything and put all reactions behind you," he had heard more than once from them. "Recovery is a cyclical process; don't try to rush it. You may be fine for a week, then get frustrated at something minor, and suddenly be fine again."

He planned to release whatever his subconscious dredged up and let the Force take it away when he had access to it. That was what a Jedi did and he had more than enough experience letting things go. He was no initiate; he was a master and why they seemed to expect him to struggle was beyond him. Obi-Wan Kenobi never struggled with his feelings; he just let them drain into the Force as he had been doing for – what – half of his life – day after day after day….

He put a hand to his head and sighed. He was being just a little bit cranky at the moment; a little withdrawn and perhaps even a bit irritable, but that was surely understandable after what all he'd gone through and the argument disguised as a debate earlier.

_Force, they're right_, he groaned.

"A word I wish to have with you, Master Kenobi."

Tired and lost in his thoughts, the words slipped by him as he brooded, this only his second participation in Council. His first had indeed been brief; the one about sending Anakin after Ventress.

"Obi-Wan," Yoda repeated patiently, waiting until Obi-Wan looked over at him with a wan smile.

"Adjourned the meeting is. To my quarters come, please, speak we will and tea we shall drink." Yoda waited while Obi-Wan uncoiled himself from his seat and slowly stood. His ancient face wrinkled as he watched. "Sorry I am that your presence was required for this long. Tired and distracted you became; not yet fully yourself are you yet."

"No, I'm not myself yet, as the healers keep telling me, and as I am well aware that I demonstrated in Council today. The Force is still elusive at times as is my control over my emotions. I am reminded of myself as a youngling, wondering if I should ever gain control enough to be ever be chosen as a padawan, let alone be knighted."

A polite grunt greeted his words and they moved on in silence, Obi-Wan folding his arms within his robes for the moment as he cleared his mind; Yoda and his hoverchair staying at his shoulder.

*

They eventually reached Yoda's quarters where the little Jedi busied himself fixing them each something to drink. Without seeming to, he kept an eye on Obi-Wan as the troubled countenance slowly smoothed out and resumed its customary serenity.

He wasn't totally satisfied, despite Obi-Wan's apparent composure. The Force still did not yet run true and strong through his fellow Jedi; it ebbed and flowed unevenly. Inside, Obi-Wan was still troubled despite his seeming serenity. While the emergency that necessitated Obi-Wan's remaining in Council could not have been anticipated, the little master regretted that it arose when it did.

The healers had shared with him what they could. They were pleased with Obi-Wan's recovery, yet had warned Yoda that the Jedi would have periodic bouts of frustration or fatigue when stressed.

Privy to Obi-Wan's medical records – with the Jedi's consent – and honored to have been present as he related his ordeal with the Sith mask, Yoda marveled once again at the younger Jedi's inner strength – and was humbled by it.

Sadly, Obi-Wan would need all the strength of mind and body, spirit and soul, to face the trials ahead – the time for the Chosen One to act, if prophecy were to be believed.

"Tired, or troubled you seem to be," he opened the conversation. "Healers warned us long ago touchy you might be, more forthright than tactful, but only a little of that I saw in you today. Bitter memories of your ordeal you have let go, so something else bothers you, eh?"

*

The diminutive master's gently phrased words smoothed out the edges of his mood, stilling the ripples disturbing the normally calm surface of his mind. It was a special talent of Yoda's, one that drew Obi-Wan for his counsel over the years.

With a nod, Obi-Wan relaxed and settled back in his seat. A hand brushed through his hair as he suddenly grinned, remembering the mind healer's comment regarding Yoda's amused reception to her warning to beware the occasional crankiness and irritability Obi-Wan might occasional display, once she gave him permission to again participate in Council meetings. In return Yoda merely gazed at him, a glint of humor in his own eyes.

"I admit I have moments that make even me uncomfortable. My friends have helped, Bant, Siri…." Obi-Wan suddenly chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen this soft a side to her in my life. If it wasn't for her…. I told you she forced me to honesty, to face the truth of that mask – and thus forced me to confront what I feared to face, and release it. So, I find it – aggravating – when I'm not in control of myself."

Yoda's eyes softened at this confession.

"Yes, kind heart Siri Tachi has, though hidden it is kept, like another one that I know. Prefers to display a sharp tongue instead she does, eh? Saw you talking in the Room of a Thousand Fountains that day, gentle with you she was but determined to help you despite her own fears of what words you would speak. So clouded you were with pain and confusion – fear, as well - but peace you found that day. Knows what is good for you Siri Tachi does."

"She does," Obi-Wan admitted. "I was floundering and she called me on it. I was so busy pretending to be a Jedi I forgot to actually be one."

"Or too busy being a Jedi to remember a mere man also you are. Always with you the perfect Jedi you seek to be and forget who you are. A Jedi is what you are, Obi-Wan is who you are."

"Where does one start and the other end? I'm simply me." Obi-Wan shrugged.

"Then fully accept who you are, you should. A Jedi and a being who is less than perfect – told you this before I have." Yoda's finger gently poked his fellow Jedi's chest. "Accept all that the Force offers, a Jedi should, as you learned to accept the help of your friends. Accepted your love for her have you, as well?"

"My, er, love?"

"Young one, human I am not, but through the Force I understand the human heart and its needs. In your pain you gave voice to yours. No longer do you deny it, yet accept it do you?" Yoda gazed at Obi-Wan. He leaned forward and tapped the Jedi's knee. "All but healed you are, remarkably so – comes does it from accepting her love?"

If he was not mistaken, Yoda was displaying the sly amusement that always made Obi-Wan wonder if he had missed some joke or nugget of wisdom he should heed.

"Er, not in the way you're perhaps intimating, Master Yoda," the Jedi stated uncomfortably, shifting uneasily. _When ready, to her arms go Obi-Wan and find comfort and acceptance there._ Who knew what Yoda had meant by that some days back – he was neither human nor clear in his fractured speech, especially when he wished to be cryptic. A phrase like that could and did mean many things.

"Admit your heart I said. Express that which is hidden within you was. Plain was it not?"

Obi-Wan relaxed a bit. "I do care for Siri…," he said carefully, as Yoda snorted.

"Hide the truth you cannot, deny it neither. 'Love' her you do."

Obi-Wan conceded the obvious. "With all of my heart that is mine to give," earning a blink of Yoda's eyes and satisfied look.

"Understand you do that as long as your allegiance to the Force remains first, no problem that is. The Force itself together draws you, a bond it has created between you both from that bond of friendship you have always shared. The Force, Obi-Wan, to the Force you listen."

In the Force, a ghost nodded. _"Obi-Wan, he's right. You're entitled to some personal happiness."_ He wasn't strong enough to truly communicate with the living, but occasionally Yoda would sense the gist of what Qui-Gon wished to say. They had made just the slightest of contacts when Yoda happened to be in a deep meditation at the same time that Qui-Gon had protested Anakin's use of the dark side to take revenge against his mother's captors and their entire tribe as well.

"I didn't dream that conversation in the Healers Ward, after all," Obi-Wan said slowly. He shook his head, remembering the exultation and heartbreak of love found and love lost within such a short span of time, so many years ago. "We were young then and wisely parted. It is a part of my life that was denied long ago and I cannot reclaim. I am a Jedi and committed to the Code –"

He jumped as the gimer stick tapped his ankle, interrupting him. Yoda glared at him, ears back.

"Code? No attachments is the Code. Duty first. The Force first. Those we are sworn to protect first. Deny ourselves to give to others what they need first we swear to do – but when duty is satisfied, a duty to self we have, too. The ability to let go if required – that is 'no attachment.' No attachment, no possession, no greed. No longer young padawans torn between each other or the Jedi path are you. Firmly on the Jedi path is your way planted. Rejoice in the bond the Force has given you if you so desire."

Obi-Wan choked as Yoda pounded him on the back. Yoda hadn't said it, but he certainly had implied something that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase "one with the Force." He was a bit shocked at Yoda's encouragement to pursue purely personal desires if he so wished. He believed in bonds, but Force bonds…should such even exist, such bonds didn't require – _rejoicing._

Once he got his breath back, he asked, "You're certainly not advocating revamping the Code are you back to pre-Ruusan days? The Council would never stand for that."

"No, no, no." Yoda shook his head. "To the Code listen. To the Force commit. To Knight Tachi –give your love, that which is yours to give and unclaimed by the Force."

"Don't do this to me, Master Yoda." He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Yoda had a strange sense of humor sometimes, but this – this couldn't be a joke. It would be a cruel one if so, and Yoda was anything but cruel. He opened his eyes and saw that Yoda was studying him with a look of deep concern, confirming this was no trick or joke.

"_You _said years ago we could not love." He spoke slowly and concisely. He rose to stand with hands clasped behind his back, then turned and faced the little Jedi master. "In that I failed. Yet you – you seem to be encouraging it now. You and Qui-Gon were the ones to separate us!"

The eyes that returned his gaze were understanding and full of compassion; Yoda giving the younger Jedi time to speak and finally reseat himself.

"Rightly so at the time. Too young you were to understand, torn you were between your path and love. Feared hurt for you your master did."

"Qui-Gon? Qui-Gon feared nothing."

Shaking his head sadly at the obtuseness of young Jedi, Yoda pointed his stick at Obi-Wan. "Always you have thought your master, even when such was proved false, to be above reproach. As master to your own padawan, you should have learned from experience that the master always tries to set an example of what-should-be rather than what-is."

There was such truth in those words that Obi-Wan merely nodded. As he had once tried to be the perfect padawan, he had tried to be the perfect master – with the same lack of success.

The legendary Kenobi patience had been as much a façade, often hiding frustration at his padawan's youthful escapades in the early days, as it had later become ingrained. It had taken years of work and meditation to subdue and master his temper and impatience, as Yoda well knew.

Qui-Gon never showed fear," Obi-Wan amended his words.

"Fear for his padawan he knew, for reckless you were once."

"Defined as hasty action without thought of the consequences, action taken without the urging of the Force, yes." Obi-Wan remembered defending his action of diving head first out of a transparisteel panel hundreds of stories in the air in a successful attempt to grab hold of a droid involved in an attempted assassination of Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo.

He had followed the Force's prompting, for he would never have otherwise voluntarily subjected himself to what followed: hanging suspended in mid air from a small droid that might not have been able to stay aloft while bearing his weight, not to mention the painful shocks that tried to scramble the nerves of his hands and arms in an attempt to loosen his grip even as he tried to twist his body to avoid the speeders encountered as they cut across traffic lanes.

He'd struggled to explain to his padawan after the Council debriefing why one had to actually hear the Force's urging to do something that appeared so reckless and foolhardy; that such a claim was not merely an avoid-the-Council's-reprimand card and if Anakin was ever to try such a foolish stunt, he had best be prepared to defend it.

Yoda's ears curved at the reminder; he had been one of several on the Council who were none-too-pleased with Obi-Wan's actions but forced to accept his instincts as prompted by the Force and thus above reproach or reprimand.

"Thinks his own master knows not fear, your padawan does," he reproved with a scowl as Obi-Wan's eyes fell, "yet fear only a fool does not know. To know fear is to be a living being, to release and move beyond fear is to be a Jedi."

"There were many times I was afraid," Obi-Wan said frankly. "Afraid of the pain I knew was coming…afraid of the darkness that tried to consume me – afraid of not being strong enough to resist it."

"Afraid for you I would be had you not been."

"Fear," the younger Jedi murmured. "I was lost in my fears, especially when I denied them." He shuddered. "Thank the Force for Siri…."

"Unconditional love pulled from the Force she gave you, for more than affection it took to help you heal. To love is to be a Jedi, from love flows compassion and consideration. From attachment flows possessiveness and greed. Not always the same they are. Know the difference you should, 'Master' Kenobi,' practice it you do without thought, never selfish are you in your love; endless is your compassion. Such love encouraged it should be, whilst all other denied and rightly so for Jedi." Yoda raised a claw and jabbed Obi-Wan lightly for emphasis.

"I understand the difference," Obi-Wan protested, a finger tapping on his knee. "But – this – it's rather hard to wrap my mind around. I just can't believe that you – you're telling me to – to love Siri without restrictions not placed on me by the Force itself."

"Love you do already, and her, you. Admit it, you have; now share your hearts without reservation. Same Jedi you are now as you were before, good Jedi you were and good Jedi you remain no matter what else you choose to share. The Force itself permits this; a vision it has given me."

"I…don't know." Obi-Wan shook his head.

_Padawan, stop being so stubborn and listen to Yoda! Don't hide your heart now that you've freed it once – embrace it. Remember how you defeated the mask._

"Much that we say is in the Code is not; open your mind to its spirit as much as its words. Guidelines it offers, a framework of principles we hold to. It is that to which we aspire, for impossible it is for living beings to strictly adhere to. Strict rules – do or do not – such it is not intended to be. Jedi we are, but livings beings we are as well."

"Now you sound like my master debating the Council," Obi-Wan groaned. "Or Jayren and some of his conclusions, as well." That Jedi's studies of ancient Jedi scrolls and histories had led him to some of the some conclusions as Qui-Gon although based on different reasoning.

"Listen more closely to Qui-Gon Jinn perhaps we should have. Right he was not always, but not wrong always either."

"He always listened to the Force before all else, and heard what few other Jedi did; many times I wondered why the Force chose to speak only to him."

"Hear it different we all do, young Obi-Wan, know this you do. Spoke to me, listen to it I did, and it chose to reveal that which I have spoken of to you. Let it speak to you; listen to what it tells you. Siri will know of what I speak, for I saw the Force bringing you together to heal even before restored to us you were."

That silenced Obi-Wan for the moment. Yoda was known for his ability to foresee possible futures, clouded though the visions had become in later years.

"Times are changing, Obi-Wan, old truths need reexamination and perhaps new commitments. Open your eyes and your mind you should while time yet there is."

Now that Yoda had put it into words, Obi-Wan understood what he had been feeling for some time. Change. The galaxy was changing and the Order needed to adapt to it, not hang onto centuries of tradition if such tradition no longer worked. More than an institution, more than a symbol; the Jedi were servants of the Force. Their purpose and their service on its behalf was what was important, not the Order itself.

That was, perhaps, easier to contemplate than – not just acknowledging, but giving in to personal desires. The self came after duty; a Jedi pledged his life to others; his own needs subservient and often submerged. It was a sacrifice made by choice, a sacrifice demanded in service of the Force.

But did the Force really demand this? It demanded much, but it gave much. It soothed and nurtured life, for the Force itself was life.

This really was too much for Obi-Wan to absorb all at one time. He groaned, and dropped his head into his hands.

_Loosen up, Master_. How many times had Anakin thrown that at him? To be fair, there were times he had railed internally against what he upheld. _Be open-minded, Kenobi, don't dismiss this out of hand. Be flexible, marshal arguments for or against, but think_.

"Jedi can't love." He didn't realize he had spoken aloud. "There is no self in the service of the Force."

"Jedi must love, listen you did not," Yoda corrected, his eyes gleaming as if he dearly wanted to pound his gimer stick against Obi-Wan's ankle.

"Love cannot be selfish, self-centered, but greater than oneself it must be, if a Jedi is to love. To do the Force's biding, even at the cost of the other's life either of you would do. Sacrifice each other you could, though troubled your heart would be, if required to do so, just as sacrifice yourself you would if necessary it became. Know I do your request of your clone companion for your life to be forfeit to avoid the darkness threatening you in captivity, for fear of what your life would mean to others should you live as a Jedi claimed by darkness."

_Promise…don't let me fall, Alpha – don't let me fall…. The anguished whisper reverberated within his head. _

"I would not condemn others to death to save my life," Obi-Wan bowed his head. "My life is no longer mine; I gave it into the Force's keeping long ago."

"…to the end of my life and even beyond its ending," Yoda recited, remembering Obi-Wan's pledge on Naboo as he assumed the rank of knight. A clawed hand reached out and gently patted the other man's knee, sensing the interplay of emotions within. "Rarely do you shield from me, a sign of trust and affection that I cherish, young Obi-Wan."

"My life belongs to the Force; I would not be forsworn."

Yoda's eyes softened. "Your life, yes. Your mind, your soul and your devotion. Your heart is yours to give and give it has to your fellow beings, to Siri Tachi. Her heart you have in return. The Jedi way, perhaps not, the Force's will it is. Do you not feel it flow around you both when together you are, binding you as one?"

"My grasp of the Force still leaves much to be desired." Half humorous, half-sad, it was a pained admission carrying within it knowledge that time, too, would heal this. "The healers don't even know if this – lack – is holding back my final recovery, or if my recovery is holding my connection back. Full and final release is not within my grasp as yet, affecting both my sleep and my mental state."

"Find your connection you will again. Heal you will. When with Knight Tachi you are, the Force strong it is around you both, from her you gain strength. Accept from her what the Force offers. Circumspect and discrete must you be but follow the heart's path you should, while time yet there is. The Force demands much of the self, it also gives much. The self it comes not first, not for a Jedi, but the self comes it does after duty."

"I pledge myself to the service of others…," Obi-Wan murmured, weakening in the face of Yoda's assertion that his vows of service above self were not at risk.

"And serve others you have. A fine Jedi you are, true to the Force and steadfast – in these troubled times an example you are of the best of the Jedi. Hardened by war you are not. Your heart," he poked Obi-Wan in the chest, "remains true, your strength it is. The heart of a Jedi you have. Room enough it has for others – and for yourself."

"Don't flatter me, Master Yoda." There was something in Yoda's look that disturbed him, an implication that there was more at stake than just a Jedi's confusion, a man's love. His next words all but affirmed that sense of looming doom.

"Dark times ahead, Obi-Wan, uncertain is the future as I've said before. If happiness you can find while still a good Jedi be – permission I give you to follow your heart with Knight Tachi, if to the Force your deepest commitment remains."

"Well, er," Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "I shall endeavor to keep an open mind should, ah, any further opportunities present itself." Years of discipline made him uneasy in facing an aspect of himself he thought long buried, yet those feelings had been re-awakening ever since he had clutched onto good memories and dreams to help him survive his time in captivity.

"Master Obi-Wan, red-faced you are; 'further opportunities' you shall have." Yoda's amusement was rarely as obvious as now. "Some of Master Qui-Gon's roguish ways on you rubbed off it has, eh? So, already found comfort in her arms you have?"

Heat spread up Obi-Wan's neck and face. He looked anywhere at Yoda.

"Oh, no – no. Nothing like that. I fell asleep on the couch, and er, I guess we did wake up in each other's arms, but only because we both fell asleep, and yes, we've, er, kissed…." Obi-Wan would have gladly dropped through it, had the floor opened up beneath him.

"A cautious man you are now, Obi-Wan. Reckless you were once. Time it is to be neither, but be bold you should."

"I don't believe it," the Jedi muttered. He looked up, eyes suddenly twinkling at the old master. "I am losing my mind…that explains it."

"Oh, sane enough you are young one. Wish not to hear my words it seems, or hard of hearing you are growing." The words were severe, not the tone in which they were delivered, bringing a slight smile to Obi-Wan's face.

"Neither one, Master, meaning no disrespect; in such as this I wish only to hear the Force."

At this, Yoda nodded, his fingers tightening around his stick as he grunted, staring at Obi-Wan. "Expect no less do I, but realize you must that just because it is your heart you hear, in conflict with the Force it may not be but in harmony?"

Obi-Wan's fingers tightened in his lap as a sudden thought occurred to him, one that was more than possible in this time of conflict.

"Have you – had a vision in which I die? Is that why you wish me to pursue personal happiness while I have time?" If that were so, it would not be fair to Siri to rekindle old feelings, only for him to die not much later. On the other hand, if it were Siri who was to die shortly, would it be selfish to deny her a chance at happiness – "Do you see Siri dying?"

"Die, indeed not." Yoda was quite vehement. He scratched an ear and sighed. "No, possible always that is, but great pain ahead I see, but of the spirit not of the body. Behind you that now is. To die is to be one with the Force. Rejoice for that I would, for you, for us all, when time it is. No, our hearts will be in pain – terrible despair – but the source I do not see, nor why, nor is it a future set in permacrete. Avoid it we might yet."

*

A great weariness settled over Yoda as he spoke, his great eyes blinking for at the moment he did not see a man with hair beginning to silver and a few early wrinkles creasing the bearded face in front of him, but instead a prematurely white and deeply grieving figure alone, holding fast to duty and life when all that he knew had turned to dust and ashes, a solitary figure: Obi-Wan.

Why alone? Why such an encompassing grief that it was a hollow void that never truly healed, why a man clinging to duty and hope when nothing was left to hold onto but – perhaps, hope, itself?


	15. The Conflict Within

**Chapter** **15**. **The Conflict Within**

One slightly dazed and deeply contemplative Jedi walked the hallways back to his quarters, arms tucked neatly within his sleeves, absently acknowledging the bows of those he passed.

He palmed open the door to his quarters and dropped into a seat with a sigh, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands.

He was finally convinced: if he chose to pursue a relationship with Siri, now or later, it was his choice alone. Any expression of his feelings, in whatever manner he deemed appropriate, was solely up to him, and in matters such as this, he wasn't sure he could trust his judgment. Not yet, when his emotions were still shaky, a lingering consequence of a time he wished would soon fade from memory.

Captivity and torture, deprivation and pain had left their mark in ways both large and small.

He had only recently come to understand how deeply damaged he had been, emotionally, mentally and physically, so he knew the line between want and need was blurred, the consequences of hasty decisions incalculable.

With the freedom of choice came the responsibility to make the correct one.

He had rarely been so indecisive, so torn between his mind and his heart, between Jedi and man. He wanted to meditate; to find some clarity of thought.

_Qui-Gon, what would you advise? I know, I know: Live life one moment at a time and don't worry about the future until it becomes the present._

That oft-repeated phrase evoked a multitude of memories, bringing a slight smile to his face. That was _always_ Qui-Gon's advice for any and all situations, yet it was wise advice when his mind cautioned him to be sure of what he wanted when his heart leapt at possibilities.

Having achieved a certain serenity with that decision, he stood just as the door chime sounded, and without a thought, he waved it open. It took him a moment to find his tongue as he stared blankly – surely Yoda hadn't – he blinked and retreated a step.

"Siri. Come in." Whatever she was about to say was silenced after one glance at his eyes. He didn't wonder about that as he stroked his chin, backing away from the door to give her room to come in, perhaps backing away from the temptation to just gather her in his arms and kiss her.

He nearly groaned aloud.

He really needed time to reflect and meditate; instead, the Force had decided to send him Siri.

*

Siri could see how Obi-Wan's arms unconsciously crossed over his chest, as he waited for her to take a seat. She wondered why he seemed a bit aloof, even untouchable. She deliberately made her next words cheerful, hoping to tease him out of this strange mood.

"I came to see how you were doing – if I know you, you were brooding about Anakin while you sit here all alone," she said, accepting his offer of caf. She was silent, studying him with worried eyes as he busied himself. His movements were quick and efficient, full of grace, but he seemed disinclined to speak.

He poured the two cups and handed her one while he went to stand by the window, staring outside. He finally answered her earlier question.

"Anakin has grown more reckless since the war's beginning. I admit I am quite concerned for him, especially when I remember how his first solo mission turned out – I _knew_ he wasn't ready, yet I held my tongue before the Council, to my regret - he has not been the same since."

_Oh, Obi-Wan, none of us have been the same, not since Geonosis, not since the outbreak of war, not just Anakin. _

He knew that, of course, he had been the first to voice the thought. So instead she reminded him, "His mother died. Of course that changed him."

Obi-Wan shook his head, not so much denying her words as her confidence that that alone explained his padawan's reserve and shields. He turned then and faced her, a hidden regret deep within him that she always saw whenever Anakin's mother was mentioned. It never failed to puzzle her, but Obi-Wan never explained and she never asked.

"No… no, it was more than that. He won't confide in me; he has secrets. I've tried to give him space, but I fear I should have spoken to him long before it became an ingrained habit – I think something is bothering him, something more than losing his mother, almost losing me, losing his arm – and it's eating away at him. I might have been able to help him deal with it…I should have dealt with it way back then. He's getting further and further away from me in some ways – sometimes I don't even know him."

Was the always confident and assured Jedi she knew expressing uncertainty and doubt – to one known to mock any potential display of same? He was definitely troubled, but she wasn't sure it was really about Anakin, either.

"Are you sure this is not just post-traumatic stress working on your mind, Obi-Wan? Maybe you're the one that has changed and you're seeing things that aren't really there."

The way his shoulders slumped told Siri he was confused and indecisive. It _was _more than worry for his padawan, considering how uneasy he had looked when she had appeared on his doorway.

She crossed over to him and stood next to him, feeling his warmth next to her, and impulsively she leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She thought at first he would pull away from her for he almost stiffened, but then his arm slowly came around her shoulder and squeezed. "You must know I feel very confused – like a padawan being asked for advice by the Council. Thank you."

Somehow, with just a slight shift of position, his arms were wrapped around her and his head was resting on hers. The slow thump of his heart was reassuring and steady against her. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi; the defining characteristic in her view, the heart that made him the man and the Jedi he was, that made him the man and Jedi she had never stopped loving.

"What's wrong?" She felt his arms tighten around her, and he softly sighed.

"I used to know what it meant to be Jedi, what choices I made and why. Even if I sometimes questioned them, I accepted the limitations; even found them comfortable. After Jabiim," he shrugged uncomfortably, "so much of what I believed had been shaken and undercut: in the purity of the Force, in discovering the demons that lurked within me…."

Her hand lifted to caress his face as she wondered if he was still haunted by that, even now. Their eyes met, but before she could speak, he silenced her with a reassuring smile. "You showed me the falsity of those beliefs, Siri, helped me find my way."

She let out a little breath of relief. "So what's the problem?"

"Just when I seem to have found my feet, the ground again shifts underneath me and I find myself with choices I never once dared to dream of; I find paths opening where once they were closed. The beliefs that dictate how I behave…."

Her heart leapt at the possibilities, but she didn't want to jump to any conclusions. He had been through so much in so short a time; his head must be literally reeling.

"What beliefs?"

"Those that have governed and guided me as a Jedi serving the Force – of duty, self-sacrifice, and of self-denial."

Obi-Wan had always been firm in his beliefs, willing to compromise on almost anything but principles. Someone or something had opened his eyes, made him question and even change something fundamental within himself, but he wasn't fully comfortable in his own mind yet.

"Has Cielan been messing with your mind again?" She kept her tone lightly teasing.

"No, Yoda has," he responded ruefully. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at her.

"He has managed to make the unattainable seem permissible within the constraints of our vows to the Force, to align my mind and heart now that I've acknowledged what has existed deep within me for so long and make my own decision should I wish to act on my feelings for you. Reconciling my personal desires with what I've been raised to believe I can never have – is difficult. He has only counseled that I listen to the Force and accept its guidance. I hear my heart, but not the Force - not as clearly as I should."

"Then just continue to listen until you hear clearly." Siri raised her face and kissed the tip of his nose, to his surprise. "Since I'm not going to sweep you off your feet anytime soon, Kenobi, how about a trip down to Dex's? You should have seen the big guy cry at your service – he doesn't know, nobody outside the Temple knows, that you've returned from the dead."

"Is that so?" He looked surprised. After a moment, he nodded as he figured it out. "The Council didn't know what shape I would be in and wanted to keep me under wraps until they knew."

"Protect you, you mean," Siri corrected gently. "They didn't want rumors and incorrect information getting out on the Holonet. You're famous enough they wanted you to recover and decide for yourself how much you wanted to share, for it won't remain quiet long – in fact, I think the Chancellor is mentioning it in his speech opening the Senate session later today. So, Kenobi, are you ready to face others?"

"With you and the Force at my side, I can face anything," he said. His arm tightened around her and he looked at her, a half smile on his face. "You are one reason I'm here, today, after all."

"Silver-tongued Kenobi." Siri touched his cheek, fighting a blush that warmed her skin much as Obi-Wan's words warmed her heart. "I'm glad."

"Me, too. I'm going to be okay, you know. I just need a little more time."

"I know." The sparkle was back in his eye, part mischievous and part gentle humor. "So Dex really cried for me?"

"Many people did, Kenobi – many people. You don't even know, do you, how many friends you have?" A crooked and yet shy smile greeted her. The "Negotiator," wise Jedi master, never flustered Obi-Wan, was embarrassed, and for a moment, Siri saw again in his eyes the young padawan he had once been.

"I'm learning." Wonder and gratitude infused his words, making Siri smile. Obi-Wan was one of the most stubborn men she knew, but one of the most humble as well. He was aware of his own capabilities, of course, but he was just as aware of each other being's capabilities as well and he never considered his own to be in excess of others.

Siri decided it was finally time to admit something that needed to be said. She'd had valid reasons to keep quiet until now, but she couldn't keep quiet forever.

"Because I am your friend, it's time, I think, that I confess something to you, something that may hurt you," Siri added reluctantly, pulling away from his touch and biting her lip. He waited, patient as always, if a bit puzzled.

This was going to be hard – not because she feared Obi-Wan wouldn't forgive her, but because he would most likely see nothing to forgive. He was the most forgiving man she had ever known and had by now reached a point in his own healing that he could offer her the forgiveness she had hesitated to ask as yet.

He already had her love, now she would give him honesty as well, much as he had with her.

"You keep giving me credit for helping you to heal, but I – oh, Obi-Wan, there was a time I desperately wanted you to be dead, not alive." She raised her eyes to his, placed a finger on his lips to keep him silent when he was about to speak.

"I need you to hear this from my lips; I once wished you dead. I wanted you to be safe and at peace in the Force. I can't say I'm sorry, not really, but, you keep telling me how grateful you are when the truth is - I wished you dead. Forgive me, please?"

Obi-Wan listened quietly; willing to let her speak without interruption. When she finished, he put a finger under her chin and tilted her face upright to fully meet her eyes, brimming with unshed tears.

To her surprise, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips in answer. Her tears spilled over, for not only had Obi-Wan returned home, but he had come home all but broken but able to heal and was now open with his affection where once he had closely guarded it.

The Force had more than granted her prayers. She hadn't earned it, but Obi-Wan had.

"Believe me, there were times I wished the Force would bring me home, as well." He brushed her hair behind her ears; then pulled her to him and rested his chin atop her head, just holding her.

"It did, though." She nodded against his shoulder, smiling at the remembered joy of seeing him once again, alive, if battered and hurting. The joy of such simple moments as this, her arms wrapped around him as his were around her. "It brought you home to me."

An indrawn breath escaped him, a soft "oh" of understanding.

"Thanks for caring enough to wish me at peace," he whispered against her hair. "I'm sorry, so sorry, for the pain you went through."

Her arms tightened in response to the huskiness in his voice. Force, he was apologizing to her, kissing her tears away. She raised her face, meaning to say something, anything, only to have her lips captured in a kiss that gave everything and held nothing back. It was a kiss that surely must have stopped the stars in their orbit.

"Gods, Kenobi." Her voice was as shaky as her knees. "When the Force is with you, it's with you."

She felt the laughter rumble within his chest.

Like a warm blanket on a cold night, the Force settled around them both in a soft embrace.


	16. Auld Acquaintances Not Forgotten

**Chapter 16. Auld Acquaintances Not Forgotten **

"Obi-Wan!" Dex's delighted cry boomed through the diner as the Besalisk caught sight of the two cloaked Jedi coming through the doorway. He hastened out from behind the counter, arms wide open. "By your Force, it is great to see you, ol' buddy. Ya' ain't dead!"

Obi-Wan threw up his hands and backed hastily away from a crushing hug. "My body can't handle one of your hugs yet, Dex."

"Ya' don't say, ya' don't say," Dex stopped short, eyeing the Jedi as one finger scratched his jaw. "Ya' do look a mite famished, ya' need a couple of specials to put some meat back on that scrawny body of yours. Miss Siri, ya' brought the kid by, I'm glad. Hey, several specials for me friends," he yelled to the waitress droid as a huge hand gently descended onto each Jedi's shoulder. A slight shudder shook the Force and Siri glanced at Obi-Wan, but any pain he felt at the touch was carefully concealed.

Dex's loud voice dropped to a closer approximation of a whisper, his words surprising both Jedi with his perceptiveness. "Ya' been mistreated and ill-nourished, my friend, I can tell." His voice was as gentle as Siri as had ever heard it and the look he shot at her confirmed the big being somehow knew or guessed the truth.

Siri studied Obi-Wan surreptitiously, unable to see what had tipped Dex off.

No sign of his ordeal remained that she could see - Force, he looked so different than he had upon his arrival at the Temple, his spirit strong but his body so battered and broken. He looked healthy now, healthy and whole once more. She fought the urge to grab his hand and squeeze, never to let go.

"Then I shouldn't be here if its nourishment I need, right, Dex?" Obi-Wan's face was as innocent as ever, though his eyes twinkled as he threw the cowl of his cloak back over his shoulders. He looked happier than Siri had seen him since his return. She was right to pull him away from any brooding he might be inclined towards.

"There's good nourishment, and not-so good, but nourishment is nourishment, ya' Jedi should know that. How you can eat them field rations of yours and not keel over I'll never understand."

"How I can eat your specials and not keel over is another wonder of the Force," Obi-Wan countered as the three slid into seats.

Not at all offended, Dex shrugged. "Ya' keel over, maybe I gets to attend another memorial for ya', my friend. Nice one the Temple put on for ya', though I never quite understood why that boy of yours wasn't there. Miss Siri said he couldn't get away, and I'm not one to doubt the word of a Jedi, but I'm inclined to think she was leavin' something out."

Siri rolled her eyes; she knew Obi-Wan was thinking the same thing she was. Anakin had had his reasons and expressed them at the time; both had accepted it but didn't feel a need to explain it to others.

"Anakin doesn't do well with farewells, besides, he was too smart to attend a service for someone he knew was still alive," Obi-Wan said, and jumped as Siri poked him in the arm.

"Are you saying I'm not smart?"

Rubbing his arm, Obi-Wan put on his best smile. "You were smart enough to know how your absence might look." At her look of disgust, he spread his hands wide in the universal sign of apology.

"Weak, Kenobi, weak - is that the best excuse you could come up with?"

"Well, yes. You have to admit I'm out of practice."

Sheepish look or not, Siri all but rolled her eyes. Typical Kenobi – always claiming the only excuses he made were for Anakin's behavior, not his own. Even if true - and she had to admit it was, he always apologized rather than excused his own behavior when warranted - she wasn't going to let his comment pass. This time he _was_ excusing himself – for his own lack of a good excuse.

"Don't blame Anakin!"

"Did I even mention his name?" Now he looked hurt and innocent at the same time. She narrowed her eyes at him, ready to retort when she noticed Dex snickering away out of the corner of her eyes.

"It was a nice turnout for ya' – you have a lot of friends," Dex interposed quickly. "Hit many of them hard it did, even them Jedi. Ya' made a name for yourself, Obi-Wan, as I always knew you would, but more important I think – ya' made a lot of friends in your life."

That sobered both Jedi, their bickering forgotten. With a sideways glance at Siri, Obi-Wan reached a hand under the table and patted her hand.

"I have been quite lucky in that regard," Obi-Wan agreed softly, then added with a mischievous smile, "Thank you, I am honored to be their friend as well. Even yours, you old reprobate."

"It's the friend next to ya' who can offer you a warm bed at night that I can't. What – what did I say?" The silence hung heavy in the air as Obi-Wan and Siri avoided looking at each other.

"I find nerf wool blankets quite warm," Obi-Wan finally broke the tension. "Especially when the nerf wool is still on the nerf and the creature insists on sleeping next to you. Anakin found that quite amusing, until he acquired one of his one. Alas, that was the most exciting part of that mission."

"More exciting than anything I'll ever offer," Siri sniffed, but her eyes were dancing. "If the man had any guts –"

"Hey!" Obi-Wan looked mildly offended.

"-he'd dare to take a bite out of that 'special' he was just served." Siri nodded to a nearby booth where a customer stared a bit blankly at his dish. Dex rumbled with laughter, agreeing with the female Jedi.

"It takes guts to eat my food, guts and courage."

Their own food arrived, but Siri noticed her fellow Jedi just eying his. Looking up to see both of them looking at him in perplexity, Obi-Wan said a bit apologetically, "I was just wondering if I had the guts and courage required."

Dex's enormous frame shook with laughter as he boomed, "You've never lacked for either, kid, so dig in."

The three then ate in relative quiet, though Dex was carefully looking Obi-Wan over and coming to his own conclusions. The fact that the Jedi Order had not yet announced the dead Jedi to be very much alive spoke for itself. Dex glanced at Siri who nodded back, understanding the unspoken question.

"Ya' been knocked about pretty badly, it seems, ya' been mistreated - tortured, haven't ya'?" Dex's voice was soft, watching his friends.

Startled, the Jedi looked up to see Dex's eyes affixed on his with a look of deep compassion.

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was equally soft. He drew a deep breath, nodded, and repeated himself. "Yes, I was, but I managed to survive. The healers, Siri here, Anakin – with their help I have recovered. I know you don't ask out of idle curiosity, but genuine concern and I appreciate it, but let's not talk about it now, not while we're eating."

Man and Besalisk, Jedi and former rogue, were unlikely friends, but friends they were, so Dex nodded in assent. After a moment's silence he clapped two of his four hands down on the table. The dishes jumped as each Jedi merely rescued a drink from toppling.

"Sure, sure thing – an' since ya' ain't officially' alive yet, ya' ain't officially eatin' so there's no official tab for dinner, ya' hear? Ya' ain't a Jedi, Obi-Wan, tonight – you're an ol' friend, buddy."

Siri clapped a hand over Obi-Wan's mouth before he could protest. "Thank you, Dex. Say 'thank you,' Kenobi."

"Mumph."

"He can be quite reasonable with the right persuasion." Siri released her hold as Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

"I like to breathe, Tachi," he complained.

"That's why I let you go – and you're too much of a gentleman to contradict a lady, ah," at the dangerous glint in Obi-Wan's eyes, added hastily, "fellow Jedi."

"The kid has always had good manners, better'n mine." Dex confided as Obi-Wan all but threw up his hands in defeat. "Never tried to straighten me out while eatin' but gave me an earful afterwards, he did."

"Beforehand, too – you shut me up with food more than once I think." At this fond riposte, the Besalisk roared with laughter and – carefully – swiped a large hand across the Jedi's arm. Obi-Wan pretended to shrink back evasively even as he lifted a bite of food to his mouth without missing a beat.

"With all ya' preachin' and jokin' ya' made an honest being out of Dexter Jettster – not that I weren't comin' to the same conclusion after some years – but ya' encouraged me, ya' might say, ya' and Qui-Gon between ya', then ya' got that old troll involved as well. Three Jedi against just me," Dex slapped two hands on the table, making the dishes jump in the air, "it weren't fair competition."

"Three Jedi against you and it still took a number of years, Dex."

"I know, I know." The Besalisk scratched a finger across his jowls, grinning good-naturedly. "Ya' three just didn't give up, so I finally gives in. Easier, you might say."

Watching the two friends banter away, Siri realized just how many years the two went back. In the wake of several missions years back, even as far back as his padawan days, Obi-Wan had referred to a good-hearted if not entirely honest being who had remained unnamed in casual conversation. Siri now had a good guess as to the identity of the being in some of those stories.

Once the dishes had been cleared away, Obi-Wan leaned forward, frowning a bit and looking at Siri as if gauging her reaction to his next words to Dex. "I know you have contacts, Dex. I want to know everything you know about Asajj Ventress."

Years of knocking around the galaxy meant the Besalisk was more than capable of lowering his voice when necessary and keeping things close. His eyes narrowed as Siri stiffened at the mention of that name.

"She the one that put you in that condition? A bad 'un, I hear. If she had ya', I am surprised to see ya' sitting here with that inquiring look on your face. She fights foul – how a Jedi who only knows how to fight fair could face her and survive – I'm glad, my friend, glad, but surprised."

"Kenobi." Siri cleared her throat. Surely he didn't need reminding that his own padawan was currently tracking Ventress? She might as well have not spoken, for all the notice Obi-Wan took of her interruption. He probably hadn't even heard her. Resigned comprehension dawned: as thorough as he was, he prepared for every contingency. He knew Anakin might fail, might be recalled before his mission was complete.

"I want to know anything that surfaces about her, Dex. I'm deadly serious. I want that woman." Siri tensed even more and this time Obi-Wan looked at her, not yielding an inch though his eyes reflected recognition of her reaction. His next words were addressed to her as well as to Dex. "Not revenge, I don't seek revenge on her. I pity her, she deserved a far better life than fate handed her – she wasn't always bad. She just needs someone to help her to see the light; she's not intrinsically evil."

"Well, sure, I'll keep me ears open," Dex answered, nodding.

"Kenobi--" Siri started to say a second time, but Obi-Wan interrupted her.

"What if a certain boy on Tatooine had fallen into the wrong hands? The thought twists my insides – like your specials, Dex," he grinned, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. "How could I leave him, or her, in the wrong hands? I can't, Siri. I can't."

She knew that, but Obi-Wan wasn't ready to face Ventress. Was he? In his eyes she saw strength and determination. What was in hers? Fear? She let out a hiss of frustration, for the truth was that s_he_ wasn't ready for Obi-Wan to face Ventress. Not yet.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

"She would kill you if you two met again."

"I'll have to chance it. You wouldn't have me any other way, would you, Siri?"

Obi-Wan gazed steadily at Siri, who just as steadily gazed back, neither giving an inch.

"If this were a movie on the Holonet, this'd be where the girl, you lass, kisses the boy, our Obi-Wan there," Dex said under his breath. Both Jedi heard him and stared at Dex and then each other.

"Er, no," Obi-Wan shook his head. This, from the man who clearly had no objections to kissing her, at least in private? Siri began to smile.

"Coward. Dare you."

"You can't dare me."

Brave, foolish Jedi. Obi-Wan could protest all he wanted, but Siri knew full well he never could back down from a dare from either Anakin or her. It was one of his worst flaws; always had been, and one he thought was well concealed from the two who could take the greatest advantage. Usually she respected that, hoarding her knowledge for the few times such as this when she didn't hesitate to make use of that flaw.

"Can, too. Who'd see?"

He pointed across the table.

"Dex wouldn't tell. Double dare."

The huge Besalisk was not going to extricate Obi-Wan from this, he was leaning forward with a fearsome grin stretching from ear to ear. "Yer mouth looks fine to me," he said conversationally. "Don't see no reason to keep the lass at arm's reach – 'sides, I knows ya' no coward but yer sure acting like one." He actually winked.

"I'm going to regret this." Obi-Wan threw up his hands in surrender as Siri leant towards him.

"Keep it simple, S…, wow," he surfaced a moment later, blinking and looking rather pleased for the kiss had tingled all the way down to his toes. "Maybe I wouldn't. You know this wreaks havoc with my Jedi composure, but then, perhaps, a man still publicly dead isn't expected to maintain that anyway. Wasn't that, er, a double dare?"

He raised an eyebrow and half leaned towards Siri, a huge grin on his face, his earlier objections all but forgotten. Siri leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her lips, laughing to herself as Obi-Wan straightened up and gave her a wounded look. "You call that peck on a cheek a kiss?"

"We're in public, Kenobi, people are looking. They think I whispered something to you. You don't want word to get back to Mace Windu that two Jedi were making out in public, and one of them on the Council, would you?" Siri's eyes danced.

"So we should wait until we're not in public?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

*

Dex leaned back and enjoyed the bickering. Them two kids might actually get together. He'd never seen Obi-Wan so familiar with Miss Siri, or she with him.

There was hope for them yet.


	17. Love's Sweet Embrace

**Chapter 17. Love's Sweet Embrace**

The kiss was long and lingering, the arms around him warm and loving, tickling him towards the first vague edges of awareness.

Mmm," he murmured, a soft smile twitching at his lips. With a slight shift of position, his arms wrapped around her and he rested his head against her shoulder…soft, her form so very soft and pliant….

Siri was in his arms and the night had been everything he had ever dreamed of and more.

He had surprised the both of them, he who had been the hesitant one, when she had stood to leave. He had taken her hand and drawn Siri to him with a whispered, "Please, stay." When she had nodded, he had drawn her to him and captured her lips in a kiss that left the both of them gasping for breath.

With a finger on his lips and a smile in her eyes, Siri drew him to his feet and led him to his room. He remembered little more than that first kiss.

Caught up in a kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations, he remembered only the feel of his hands sliding over her flesh; the feel of her hands sliding over his, the heat of their skin as they sought each other's embrace and the quiet contentment of just holding each other that had followed until sleep had finally claimed them.

He would be happy to linger in this state of more asleep than awake, yet he knew if he allowed himself to wake he would see Siri's eyes soft with the same love she had shown at night before the shields of day changed them from the eyes of a woman to the eyes of a Jedi. Reveling in a cocoon of warmth and comfort; the soft arms of slumber enveloping him and loath to let him go to the waiting arms of his love, he let the expectations of a night fulfilled and a morning's promise pull him to wakefulness.

He turned over; still half-asleep his arm reached out – to find nothing. The spot next to him was cool and empty. He opened his eyes and blinked at a pillow, and settled back with a deep sigh.

He had had that dream again.

Despite his very real disappointment at being alone, a smile slowly crept over his face, for until he woke it had been – quite pleasant.

Pleasant indeed - and Siri had made it plain that those dreams could become reality, if he dared. Even if not, at least his dreams now were not of pain and confusion. The touches were gentle and welcome, not harsh and dreaded. It was the dreams that gotten him through the long and never-ending battle for existence itself, the long denied passions of youth woken from a long slumber. The fantasies had been woven into dreams that had given him continued life, for they had given him one more reason to live.

Now they could become more than just an impossible dream.

Was he ready to reach out and make them real? Fantasies weren't messy or painful; they could be dismissed and released. Fantasies were safe; though he had never been known in later years as a reckless man, his caution was born more of a need to assess a situation and potential ramifications rather than an avoidance of risk.

The Jedi threw an arm across his eyes and sighed. Clearly, it was now a question not of what he wished, but how he would act on those wishes – and when, if at all. That he could not longer deny.

However, this was more, far more, than mere physical desire alone. It was a desire to forge a true and complete connection with another person that went beyond the physical, a connection rooted in tenderness and affection; that which he had sustained him in his time of deepest need. His human heart longed to share his deepest self with another and have that other share with him – to have an intimacy of knowledge without barriers or boundaries.

He had shared deep connections before, though they were a different type than with the Force or with what he wished to find with Siri.

His bond with Qui-Gon had not been between equals; it had been between master and padawan, teacher and student, male to male – friend to friend, comrades in arms. He had relished that bond, and regretted that he had never been able to form one as deep with his own padawan.

His bonds of friendship with Bant, Garen, and Reeft were strong and sure, a source of comfort, but his bond with Siri was somehow different and yet incomplete. It had changed long ago, but it had been held in check and never given voice but once. It was now speaking to him again, in the language of that long ago time; this time, encouraged rather than discouraged.

One barrier, one only, stood between them; this one self-imposed.

Did he truly dare act and breach that final barrier? Any form of legal bonding was out of the question, discretion a necessity. He cared too deeply for Siri for any union to be little more than a fling, togetherness without commitment, yet they had already shared so much of themselves that it seemed pointless to pretend they hadn't already shared just about everything possible, for the deepest intimacy was of the mind.

_It's the friend next to ya' that can offer you a warm bed at night! _Obi-Wan leaned back against his pillow, a smile tickling at his lips as he glanced over at the crushed pillow beside him. That was perhaps something for the future, but he already had her friendship and love to warm his heart, whether she was present or absent: an anchor to hold onto into any stormy seas of fate.

When he had confessed the uncertainly and confusion plaguing him the other night, holding her tight as she had held him safe, he had needed the comfort of not just a friend, but a friend who loved and accepted him as he loved her in return. He had been satisfied with that, would always be satisfied if that was all he had, but even that degree of comfort and closeness could not be too openly displayed in front of others.

Yet, he wanted all that, and more. Captivity had loosened the Jedi's control of the inner man; freed him to admit personal needs and desires long held in check.

Was it right; was it proper? Was it hypocritical to engage in behavior that needed to be concealed and behavior he had thought so long to be forbidden by his oath? As with anything once held dear and unquestioned, changing one's mind, let alone behavior, was daunting.

His commitment to the Force and to the Jedi came first, and unless he could reconcile his personal desires with his duty, he would forever be caught in this limbo of not daring to move forward and not wanting to step back.

The thoughts, hopes and dreams of a man had been awoken within him. Now a man's desire warred with the Jedi's need for detachment; the released captive's need for closeness fought the Jedi's need for distance…resulting in his hesitance to move forward on this slow path to a destination yet unknown – a path that might yet lead forward, or not. What would happen or not would be the will of the Force and he would accept it, whatever it was or wherever it led.

_There is no passion; there is serenity_.

Yet a Jedi was supposed above all to _listen_ to the force and _feel_ compassion - and wasn't "passion" a necessary component of "compassion?" _Yes, padawan mine, yes_ seemed to drift in his mind, in his master's deep tones.

His master had never hesitated to live his life with passion, and no Jedi had been stronger with the Living Force than Qui-Gon Jinn. His master had loved him, and he his master, and the Force had approved enough to bring them together despite all the obstacles a stubborn and heart-sore Jedi could drop in its path.

Was love – love, regardless of whether it was love _of_, or love _for_? Did the Force even distinguish between them? Could love be wrong, if it remained subservient to the Force, its foundation friendship and its rules selflessness?

But could it so remain? _What about Qui-Gon – you know how he struggled after Tahl's death! _His rational mind was quick to remind him of the dangers inherent in a Jedi's love. He had been helpless to stop his master's descent into impassioned rage, he with the serenity the padawan so struggled to emulate.

_We all have stood at the brink, my padawan – I with Tahl, you with my death or in that Sith hell – inside each of us that stays true to the light is a kernel of truth that will stay our hand – a memory, a touch, a whisper – a wisp of light that cannot be vanquished, that connects us to the greater light of the Force. For Tahl I nearly fell, for the memory of Tahl, and my padawan, I stood fast. I could not see into your heart during your battle on Naboo, not yet being one with the Force, but there you found your own kernel of truth, stepped back and asked the Force to guide your hand rather than your grief._

Qui-Gon always did without asking why; he himself never did without first asking why. Perhaps the answer was not in doing, or asking, but in listening – listen to the Force and heed its guidance.

_I was too deeply rooted in the Living Force to have the detachment you do – a flaw and a strength in opposite ways, for you as well as I. You have the wisdom, my padawan, to find balance between your weakness and your strength._

_Master, you continue to guide me even after death. _Affection tinted the thought just as it was visible in the slight tilt of his head and the smile hovering over his lips. His master's teachings had always lived within him, but there had been times he had almost heard Qui-Gon's soft whisper or felt the brush of an intangible hand. Comforted by a phantom conjured by his mind in his desperation, he had been half-convinced as he twisted in pain that Qui-Gon was there to soothe him in Ventress's cell.

_I was…_

"I know you're one with the Force, but you're always in my heart, Master. Some part of you has never left me and continues to guide me to this day." He spoke aloud, a hint of wry amusement in his tone at the thought that he was speaking to empty air.

_Because I haven't left you_, _though you know it not. _

Obi-Wan shook his head. Addressing comments to one no longer in existence comforted him, but it could be construed as a sign of – mental stress – as a result of his captivity. At least he wasn't hearing Qui-Gon respond.

_I have not that power yet, Padawan, or hear me you would – and often. I would hold you when you hurt, encourage you when you doubt and take your pain and sorrow when you grieve. You would know my pride and my love, my padawan._

Obi-Wan gave himself a mental shake, shaking his head at what Cielan would most likely say if she knew the way his thoughts had been running lately. Or, Force forbid, Anakin. His padawan – he frowned – that was rather an obstacle as well.

Well, he glanced at the chrono and decided he'd indulged in mental gymnastics long enough – he'd leave everything in the hands of the Force.

Do – or do not, should the proper moment present itself.

Though to be honest, he wasn't about to entirely dismiss the possibilities.

**

Darth Sidious might once have been displeased, but the man in the shadows did not cling to disappointment. Any event, no matter how trivial, even the survival of one he detested, could be twisted to serve his purpose. Any person, even. He would make use of the light, while abhorring it; he would walk in the shadows and exult in it.

The time would come when light would be slain, the protégé his alone – and the galaxy smothered in an iron fist, at peace at last.

The Sith receded once more into the shadows, where he was most at home.

The Chancellor of the Republic was merely thoughtful, somehow detached from the controlled bustle about him. Up above, in the vast chamber known as the Senate arena, was controlled pandemonium, the ritual and inevitable consequence of a new Senate session – of alliances forming and dissolving, of feuds resolved or renewed.

Below, here, was quiet purpose; the Chancellor stood somewhat aloof and untouched by the raucous chaos above.

The hands of an aide smoothed his ornate robes of state into place, heavy fabric, rich and ornate, yet not ostentatious. In such perilous times, the Chancellor would not flaunt the trappings of his office.

In such gestures as this, the Chancellor had won the hearts and minds of the Republic: a leader above the political chaos, decisive in crisis, gentle spoken yet firm against the tyranny of those who would sever the Republic for personal gain.

The Chancellor had the political will and the political authority to bring order where there was chaos, peace where there was conflict. Unlike pandering politicians, prey to the shifting winds of public opinion, Palpatine didn't posture and strut; he had the authority born of respect and trust to rise above the bickering and partisanship that often stalemated the Senate into inaction.

Should the Republic falter, it would falter under the leadership of its politicians and its military leaders, the Jedi Order. Palpatine would reenergize and inspire those who fought and those who worried, wresting victory from defeat in the end.

For now he waited, patient, for his cue. All good things come to those who wait – a maxim that had served him well.

"Your Excellency, it is time."

"Let's see to it, then." With a nod, and a swish of his stately robes, he stepped serenely into the lift, where his aides already waited, seated in an open semi-circle behind the speaker's podium. He remained standing.

The great doors separating the arena from the staging area below opened. The delegates claimed their seats, the din of a multitude of languages all but silenced. Majestically, the lift rose, seemingly from the bowels of the planet. Higher and higher, the circular pod rose, perched atop its pillar like an open flower on a stalk.

It reached its highest level and stopped.

With a flick of his fingers, the Chancellor was bathed in light from above, subtle and barely discernable, highlighting his noble and benign face.

Cries of approval swept the delegates to their feet as the Chancellor bowed in humility. After a few moments, he extended his arms as if to embrace this, his political realm, and all the beings a part of it as Mas Amedda, Vice Chair of the Galactic Senate called for order.

"Noble senators, citizens of the Republic, I come before you to declare we are united; we still stand. Our great Republic still stands. Our will is strong, our heart is strong, our arms are strong. We cannot be defeated…."

To the vast majority of the galaxy, the fact that the Senate had reconvened meant little. Lives went on, whether politicians gathered or not; war continued, whether its political leaders argued or found consensus.

"…and now, my friends, before I declare this session of the Senate open, it is with great pleasure that I announce the return of one our greatest defenders, presumed dead only to escape from captivity to prove the reports wrong." Palpatine paused, almost tasting the air of anticipation, the "who?" and the "what is he speaking of?" He raised his hands to placate his audience.

"This hero, this man – this Jedi - General Obi-Wan Kenobi – has returned from vile captivity, in fragile health, to defend our Republic."

The news galvanized the crowed – many standing and applauding, some stunned. The Chancellor beamed over them all.

**

A holonet political news compiler, assigned the tedious task of sifting the holobot footage, suddenly sat up straight, mind working furiously. It _had_ been rather quiet on the news front lately.

**Kenobi and Skywalker Reunited: A Young Hero's Faith Vindicated**

The new Senate session, by itself, was not a news leader, but the Chancellor's speech had included that one nugget of information that would boost not just ratings, but the morale of many within the Republic. All it had taken was for the Holonet to grasp the significance and give it its proper spin.

**Kenobi and Skywalker: the Team was Back**

Those who still thought to mourn the loss of a war hero, adults and children alike, were startled by the story. Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi had been rescued from captivity, the announcement of his death premature. The Jedi master was in seclusion in the Jedi Temple, recovering from an unspecified ordeal; Anakin Skywalker was said to be "ecstatic and overjoyed."

**Kenobi and Skywalker: renewed hope for the Republic. **

The Galactic Republic was again in a position to kick some Separatist rear right out of the Outer Rim itself.

Within the Senate itself, the news had started a buzz of conversation that overshadowed the fight for new committee assignments or Senate offices. Chancellor Palpatine had ridden the news to new heights of popularity, according to the polls – many of the Senators now hoped to hitch a ride on that same rocket.

To a few, the news was personally gratifying rather than politically, and one hurried to take personal advantage of it. She had given the Republic's eulogy; she would now give her personal greeting to one who was an old friend. Her request was promptly granted.

The man at the center of the story took the ribbing from his colleagues in stride while avowing to remain out of public sight until the furor died down. He wasn't a hero, not in his eyes.

He was a survivor.


	18. For the Love of a Jedi

**Chapter 18**. **For the Love of a Jedi**

The Skywalker skill had triumphed again.

In all the chaos, Anakin had been able to sneak in undetected, though it had taken superb skill to avoid all the flak and heavy fire in the atmosphere. He landed with a tight grin, imagining all the sour comments had his master accompanied him: Obi-Wan would have oh-so-loved to have been his wingman during the descent.

Keeping himself concealed in shadows and doorways, cloaked with the Force as much as possible, he headed for the biggest disturbance he could find through the Force, a vast citadel.

Slipping through a half-collapsed wall, he followed his nose. The scent was potent, a scent of evil beyond anything he had ever encountered. This was concentrated, not the animalistic evil of the Sandpeople on Tatooine, but of conscious choice.

Evil was embraced here, and Anakin knew he was in the right place, even before he found the vast room with a statue of a Jedi as described by Obi-Wan. All senses on alert, Anakin followed the Force into an area where the miasma of terror physically slammed him to a stop.

The Force coiled in anguished strands of un-dissipated pain as if unwilling to reveal the depths of suffering soaking the air, but it could not conceal the faint trace that lingered; his master's path. Obi-Wan had been here; his hate and rage peaked here….

The emotional residue had Anakin blinking. What extremity could drive his serene master to such rage and hate as had stained his being? It had flared and it had flamed out, _here_, but it had existed. It was what had clotted his master's Force presence when his presence had once again shone in the Force.

His master's light had been tarnished and darkened; Ventress had taken far more from her captive than Anakin had even thought possible. _Oh, Master!_

The Force prodded and pushed him, no, no need, he's free now…but something greater than the Force alone drove him on –

- the burning need to know where…how…why?

What had nearly stolen his master's essence, had turned a strong Jedi into a haunted man who was not yet whole and might never be whole – what had come close to extinguishing a bright light and replacing it with stifling darkness? What had drawn hate and anger from a gentle soul that knew nothing of such emotions and still battled to be free of them?

He would pull the truth of his master's suffering from the stone walls that had encased him, from the molecules of the air that he had breathed, from any remnants of his blood and tears that had stained the floor: he would know the truth when he faced Ventress.

Once he knew the true extent of his master's suffering, he could return to his side and take some of the burden of that knowledge off Obi-Wan's shoulders. His master should not have to bear it alone, no matter how strong his shoulders.

Gripping his unlit lightsaber in tightly clenched fingers, Anakin pressed on, peering into cell after cell until one called to him. He carefully pushed the door open and a hint of his master's Force presence lingered there, the same tainted one he had sensed on Riflor.

Stepping in, he held his lightsaber before him for light, his stomach churning and his eyes narrowing at the still visible remnants of torture.

There was dried blood on the floor, mixed with traces of other bodily fluids, vomit – anything that could be squeezed out of a human body. There was blood on the chains when he looked at them, and Anakin nearly retched at the suffering etched so blatantly before him. In a corner were the remains of tattered and torn clothing, speaking their own tale.

Anakin uneasily toed the pile, stiff and rotting, the stench overwhelming and found amongst the remnants Obi-Wan's utility belt. Wrinkling his nose in revulsion as putrid odors assaulted his nose, he gingerly picked it up. His master might not wish it back, but he might want the contents, so Anakin fastened it above his own belt with shaking fingers.

"Dear Force, Master," he said helplessly as he stared around. "This makes the fabled Corellian hells a paradise. No wonder you were such a mess when we rescued you – and just how in the Force did you manage to be in good enough shape to actually fight your

way out of here, fight a bunch of bounty hunters, and not totally dissolve when I – I – how could I have done that to you, Master?

Overcome with remorse, he sank to his knees and gulped in deep breaths of air – and heard the silent screams preserved in stone that Obi-Wan had shuddered so violently over as he spoke so haltingly of that place.

Screams and cries – pain and hate, each given voice. The souls of the damned, unable to find peace even in death, for death had only entombed their final agonies_. _Each pierced his soul, but rising above all the rest was one man's screams – so vivid that they stabbed his very heart.

"Master, I know you wanted to free these remnants of the dead, even if those poor souls found peace in death or not. I promise you now, I will destroy this place and free whatever remains of the dead and I will find and kill Ventress. She will not live to ever do this to anyone I love ever again. I can't risk your life, and it will be at risk as long as she lives. Ventress dies, my master. I promise."

The tears sliding down his cheeks would not be enough to wash the place clean of his master's pain. Tears would not make his master whole. Tears could not protect him; he would always be in danger as long as Ventress lived. Blood, only the blood of Ventress could assure Obi-Wan's safety.

Scrubbing his face dry with a sleeve, the tears of a Jedi wiped into implacable determination; he left, not looking back. The tears of the damned would fuel his purpose; this place would soon be rubble. Obi-Wan would be free of it. Forever.

So a Jedi swore, and against that vow the Force silently protested.

**Chapter?

At long last, Padmé thought, gazing out the transparisteel portal as the Jedi Temple came into sight. He had been delighted, he said, at the prospect of her visit; perhaps as yet he had not been inundated with friends from outside the Order.

Trained to hear nuances in voices, the words not said between those that were, Padmé

had stopped worrying that her call had come prematurely. He was, as he said, looking forward to visitors.

The Temple rose before her, aloof and magnificent, an edifice to peaceful contemplation amidst the bustle of Coruscant. It was visible far and wide and seen as a symbol of justice that in some ways exceeded the actual Hall of Justice. Home to the Jedi Knights, protectors of the weak and defenders of justice, it had endured nearly unchanged for centuries.

It had not changed, nor those it housed, but to some, the perception of the Jedi Order had changed. Their transition from defenders of peace to warriors for peace had not come without cost.

He was waiting for her, standing at the edge of the shadows yet within the angled light.

The sight brought a pang to Padmé's heart. She had known this man for over ten years and counted him a friend in his own right, not just as mentor to her husband. She admired him as much as she was fond of him; his integrity was without question and his sense of duty just as strong as her own.

She had had little contact with him in the first days of their acquaintance, knowing him mainly as the quiet young man in Qui-Gon's shadow.

After the liberation of Naboo, in the midst of his grief, the unassuming young Jedi had stepped forward and worked tirelessly and without fanfare to help Naboo recover from the Trade Federation's occupation of the planet during the few days he had little to do but await the arrival of the Jedi council and the determination of his own future.

His gentleness with the boy who was now her husband, despite the mixed emotions he must have felt taking charge of the boy who had nearly supplanted him, had won her heart as his work on behalf of her people had won her gratitude.

"Padmé!" Obi-Wan reached both hands to greet the Senator as she stepped from her speeder to the hangar floor; a smile broke through the bearded face, echoing her own.

"It is good to see you."

"More so for me, old friend." Heedless of the semi-public nature of the hanger, Padmé

enveloped Obi-Wan in a friendly hug that made the Jedi chuckle. "Obi-Wan, I was so grieved to hear of your presumed death, and Anakin," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "your padawan was quite distraught. He missed you, as did I."

"There was little I could do about that," he said with a soft laugh. Padmé made a face at him; he teased her in return by calling her by her title, "Senator."

"Master Jedi," she retaliated. "Anakin…?"

Obi-Wan threw her a puzzled look. He hesitated then resumed walking. "I presumed Anakin had told you of his self-appointed mission. I was certain he visited you while on leave."

Somehow avoiding a blush, Padmé agreed. "Of course, he has. He did mention he hoped to persuade the Council to send him after – ah…."

"Ventress," Obi-Wan supplied easily. "Padmé, you can speak her name in front of me. Asajj Ventress. I won't dissolve into a pile of goo on the floor or something."

Picturing Obi-Wan melting into a glob of tan and brown, Padmé nearly giggled before she grew solemn once more. The Jedi was still one who deflected pain with wit, though he seemed to have moved past the pain. Had he not, there would have been a hint of shadows behind his eyes, those eyes that now sparkled with his amusement.

"No, Obi-Wan Kenobi would not. You've never changed from that young man I met years ago, not really. You bury your pain inside until you deal with it – have you truly dealt with it?"

"I have," he acknowledged.

"I'm so glad." She laid a hand on his arm as they walked; she paused as did he in turn, turning to her with that little quirk to his eyebrows that she adored, for it was such a human gesture from one who tended to betray his emotions only in such small ways.

"I know that you do feel deeply, no matter what you wish others to think. I know the pain you felt all those years ago – the strained silence between Qui-Gon and you as we returned to Naboo before you two made your peace, the horrible grief you tried hard to contain for the sake of a boy you barely knew and for whom you had accepted full responsibility – now this."

With a shrug, Obi-Wan admitted, "You see much that is less than visible to many others, something that serves you well in your chosen profession. A fellow Jedi was of inestimable help in my recovery – would you like to meet her?"

"Her?"

Obi-Wan groaned. "I'm a Jedi, Padmé. Don't be such a civilian. I know you've met Master Luminara and Padawan Offee, not to mention Master Gallia, Master Ti…." He ticked off the name of several female Jedi as Padmé grinned.

"So what is the name of this Jedi who helped you?"

"How do you know it isn't one of the Jedi I've mentioned?"

"Because you're being evasive and defensive." At Obi-Wan's glare, Padmé giggled and relented. "Because Anakin mentioned her name and it was none of the above."

"Siri Tachi," he said, pulling out his comlink as he resumed walking. "Siri, when you finish class, please join me and a friend for coffee, my quarters. The Senator would like to meet you."

Laughing softly to himself, he returned the comlink to his belt and explained, "Siri is teaching a class right now. I assume since you took the time to come here, you have some time to visit."

"I wouldn't be here to check on my favorite Jedi master if I didn't have time," Padmé

assured him as Obi-Wan opened the door to his quarters and let her precede him into the room.

"I'm not sure Master Yoda is free – you forgot to inform me you wished to see him."

It took a moment for his words to sink in; he smirked as she gasped and gave him a little poke.

"Oh, you. Just for that let an old friend give you a most improper and heartfelt second welcome home alive greeting," Padmé said, engulfing Obi-Wan in a big hug as the door closed behind them, adding a kiss on the cheek for good measure. Her eyes widened in surprise when Obi-Wan allowed the hug, even returning it before disengaging.

"I gained a new appreciation of friendly touches after my captivity," he explained somewhat sheepishly. Laughing softly, he admonished as Padmé grinned and opened her arms as if to hug him again, "Don't push it, my friend, I'm still me and I don't accept random hugs without purpose."

"Hugs have no purpose whatsoever."

"Oh, they do, I've learned that," Obi-Wan returned, sitting down across from Padmé. "They're especially good for erasing memories of less than pleasant touches."

Padmé leaned forward and took one of his hands within hers, pleased that Obi-Wan allowed this slight contact as well. He hadn't allowed her even that gesture on Naboo, when she was willing to hold a man whose mentor had died in his arms not long before, let him cry the tears he had bottled up inside for private release at some other time.

"I won't ask what happened to you – I will only ask: how are you doing now, Obi-Wan?" Her eyes narrowed before Obi-Wan could begin to reply. "And I don't want to hear 'just fine' you hear. I want to know how you are really doing now."

"Just fine," he sputtered, and hurriedly added, "I have been told to expect mild flashbacks and the occasional nightmares for some time yet, but the healers are otherwise quite pleased with my recovery."

"Anakin told me you had some bad ones. He told me of one time he just held you – that even when he woke you, you couldn't seem to escape the clutches of that one. He told me," she wondered if she dared to bring it up to one who was ordinarily so well controlled that he probably would hate the reminder, "the pain of the memories was so bad you just – wept in his arms."

"Did I really?" He looked surprised, but he didn't refute it, in itself confirmation of Anakin's story. He looked down at his hand, still lying within hers, but left it lying within hers with an almost absent-minded gaze at them.

"It's quite possible. Jedi do cry, Padmé." He fell silent; then looked over at her as he squeezed her fingers before releasing them. "I've never been ashamed to admit it – it's just that I've never been in a position where I've wanted to cry yet didn't need to remain strong, usually for someone else in worse pain. I wanted to keep my dignity intact when I was shipped off to Bandomeer, I needed to reassure Anakin after Qui-Gon's death…there's always been some reason I couldn't allow myself tears. I had few such reasons after I returned – and Anakin and others were there to catch me."

"And how many times have you caught someone, yourself?" Without giving Obi-Wan a chance to reply, Padmé diverted the subject before the Jedi could protest. She was sure he probably felt he only responded to a need in others, rather than his own need to reach out to others.

"By the way, Bail Organa sends you his best," she laughed as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, "Senator Organa, yes, he knew I was coming to visit."

This was not the time or place to discuss the growing dissatisfaction among some of the Senators with the daily abdication of power and responsibility into the hands of just one man. Jedi served, not led in the political arena. There were times Padmé wished she could take advantage of a Jedi's keen judgment and impartial consideration: Obi-Wan would be the Jedi she would choose but she would not risk compromising his neutrality.

The two were engrossed in conversation when the chime signaled. Both stood as the door opened to admit this "Siri" who had engaged Padmé's interest. She had heard a fair amount about this female Jedi from Anakin; her husband seemed to admire her and she certainly had been a friend to her friend and husband's master.

Blonde hair waving in a simple, short cut framed a strong face, accentuating her wide, blue eyes. It was an honest face, attractive and unadorned that matched the athletic quality of her body. Obi-Wan greeted her with obvious pleasure, earning a soft smile in return.

Good friends, indeed, Padmé decided.

Obi-Wan introduced the two as each woman silently evaluated the other, and came to a mutual conclusion that each was a friend to the Jedi master in question. Both smiled at the same time.

Padmé noted how a smile made the Jedi actually pretty, rather than just attractive. Her slight but noticeable air of formality quickly eased into an informality that Padmé was quick to adopt in return.

The amiable visit came to an end too quickly. All three walked to the hanger; Padmé

gave Obi-Wan a quick parting kiss on the cheek after whispering into his ears, followed by a wink at Siri as she boarded her ship.

*

"She's quite real for a politician," Siri remarked, standing by his side. "I see why you and Anakin are friends with her – what did she say to you before leaving? I know that look on your face. Spill."

"Er," he cleared his throat. "That I'm a blind fool if I don't realize, er, what a friend I have in you."

"Oh." Siri looked into the sky, a smile on her face. "She's no ordinary politician if she really speaks her mind that freely."

"She has treated me with every kindness, from the time I was a lowly, smarting padawan to now. She has given me nothing but friendship and honesty," he turned and faced Siri, "as you have, as well, other than the kindness, that is. That took time to develop." He smirked as Siri gaped at him; then smacked him on the arm.

"When I was a junior padawan I thought you were detestable."

"That's the time I was referring to; perhaps I was."

"From my point of view, certainly. You were too good to be true – not to mention that stick up your –"

"Siri!"

Their voices faded into the distance, still bickering and arguing – and discussing evening meal plans.


	19. The Wrath of a Jedi

**Chapter 19. The Wrath of a Jedi**

One of the most radical proposals – the one that had, surprisingly – generated the least opposition – had been Obi-Wan's suggestion to enlist aged, infirm, and all but retired Jedi in the training of young initiates. Most were capable of making rudimentary bonds – they could step forward as surrogate masters.

Some had already raised one or more padawans to knighthood; some had taught entire classes, a full time job in itself that precluded the taking of a padawan. Each was experienced, each was capable – the question now was – which among them was willing?

Younger, mid-level padawans would help with actual physical skills when the surrogate master was unable. If properly managed, assisting younger initiates would sharpen the skills of the padawans as well without interfering with their own training.

Field work – that was something to be addressed in the future, but having the initiate tag along with another team on the less hazardous missions would be a way to test the possibilities. Such was not unknown; Obi-Wan had been a "tag-along padawan" a few times when Qui-Gon had been otherwise occupied, just as occasionally another padawan had joined them.

Jayren had been one of the first to volunteer, once he heard of the plan.

"I would have loved to take a padawan, Obi-Wan," he had said, his eyes lighting up. "I had always planned to do so until my injuries made that impossible. It just wasn't something the Force had in mind for me. I'll help in any way I can – it would be such a joy to be around young ones."

_To hear the laughter of younglings_…Obi-Wan understood well what hadn't been said.

"I know you hate to be in a hover chair," he offered gently, but Jayren brushed that aside with a murmur that it was the healers who objected more than him.

"Help me, will you?" Flexing long unused Force muscles, Jayren weakly leaned towards Obi-Wan. "I have a reason now to get used to that darned contraption – Obi-Wan, I can do this for myself with practice….but for now I need your help, please."

He shifted awkwardly towards his friend as Obi-Wan gently slid his arms around Jayren and lifted him out of the bed and into the chair he had called over to the bedside with a touch of the Force.

"I don't think this counts as frivolous use of the Force, right?" He winked at Jayren as he settled him in place. He started to step back, only to catch Jayren as he started to fall forward.

"Are you sure about this?" He frowned; a chair did no good if Jayren could not sit in one.

"Of course, I'm sure. I'm just going to have to work on some Force manipulation skills to hold me upright – until then, that's the purpose of that button there – it's a repulsor field to keep me upright without sliding right out of this thing."

A look of concentration came over Jayren's face as he called on the Force. With a devilish glint in his eye, he looked at Obi-Wan. "Let's get me used to this."

The Force leapt at his command and Jayren was careening towards the doorway, barely missing a healer. He called over his shoulder, "Oops, 'scuse me, I've got to work on fine-tuning that Force push – that was full throttle forward."

Before he could crash into anything, the healer pointed a finger at him and commanded him to stop, a flick of the Force turning off the controls. Marching over to his side, the healer leaned forward and stared at Jayren, who hung his head.

"You – do – not – drive – that chair like Master Kenobi's padawan drives a speeder. Understand me?"

The healer turned and pointed another finger at Obi-Wan, but the expression had softened to a fond resignation, telling the Jedi that Jayren had perhaps tried stunts like this once too often. "You, Master Kenobi – don't encourage him. He's not allowed to handle that chair until and unless he agrees to work with one of the therapists to develop his Force skills to actually handle that thing in a safe manner."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed in turn and he crossed his arms, giving his friend a hard stare. He was beginning to get a glimmer of an idea why Jayren was rarely to be seen in a chair.

"I will, I promise. My oath as a Jedi," Jayren all but wheedled.

"You'd better! The other two choices are no chair – or that chair so disabled an infant can crawl faster than you can maneuver it."

It was all Obi-Wan could do to hide his smile as Jayren eagerly agreed. From the sounds of this scolding, this was exactly what Jayren needed – he fairly shone in the Force. He moved forward and dropped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You're on record with the Council now, my friend. I'll be in touch with you once the healers agree you aren't a menace in the making."

The healer rolled its eyes and crossed its four arms. "Oh, dear, Master Kenobi, whatever you have planned, don't entirely tame this one. He livens this place up – just make sure he's not a danger to anyone besides himself and you can do anything you want with him that's within his capabilities."

Both Jedi watched the healer stalk off.

"Tame you?" Obi-Wan crossed his arms once more and stared at Jayren, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Um, ah, well," Jayren waved off Obi-Wan's question. "It breaks the boredom…."

"Ah."

This time the smile did break through.

**

Away from those lower levels, those repositories of detritus and depravity, those places where the strong preyed on the weak and the weak prayed for escape, Anakin Skywalker's inner tumult and revulsion slowly began to coalesce into sharp focus.

His hand now was no longer trembling; the horror in his soul had been replaced by implacable determination. Those who hated and those who inflicted such suffering upon others were soon to discover the consequences of their behavior, for the wrath of a righteously indignant Jedi was about to descend upon those who had no concept of justice or honor in war.

Ventress, however, would have to wait; she was not on planet.

Anakin had intercepted several beings when he could catch them alone and tried some Force persuasion on them to find this out. It wasn't his best skill, for he had never worked on developing it, relying instead on pure power. Now when he could use subtlety, he wished he had greater control of it.

He had sense enough to try to persuade them to come to him before he revealed himself; if that worked he was able to release them without them being the wiser, if it did not, he remained hidden. He had learned that the hard way, fighting his way clear and wounding several. None of them had been worthy of a Jedi's retribution, for none of them had the miasma of injustice clouding their souls, only the smallness of mind that made them willing to serve those who had.

By now, he was higher up in the citadel, closer to what passed for the seat of power.

He was trying to find a trace of Ventress, perhaps a room, a datapad, something that would lead him to her when he overheard voices coming his way and pressed into a cubbyhole.

"That recent Holonet report says that escaped Jedi captive of hers is "alive and in seclusion' after 'an unspecified ordeal'." A strange sound that Anakin could only identify with some difficulty as a kind of high-pitched giggle followed that. "I know the name of that ordeal –how do you like being known as an 'ordeal,' Aidus?"

Anakin snarled, deep in his throat, barely able to restrain himself from immediate action.

Obi-Wan had mentioned an "Aidus." Alpha had done more than mention the man; he had growled about the man's treatment of the two. Aidus, not just Ventress, had tortured his master; he, too, would see justice, it was just too bad that Alpha wasn't to be a part of the payback. He slipped behind the two, following them and waiting for an opportunity.

"_Patience, Anakin, patience."_ His master's gentle admonitions echoed in his memory.

Here, at the scene of his master's greatest suffering, he could and would pay heed to that lesson.

Both beings were big and beefy, easily his physical match and more – if one didn't take into account a Jedi's training and skill with the Force. Despite their size, both moved lightly on their feet. Mere brutes they were not, even if they were brutes in most ways that civilized beings would define such as.

"That holonet don't give anyone credit, 'unspecified ordeal,' indeed." Aidus snorted, punching the wall as he strode forward. "I've gotta say it gave me a lot of satisfaction to beat a Jedi into something even a starving rancor wouldn't scarf down."

"Ah, Aidus, you'd get your delights kicking a permacrete wall and knocking it over, then pissing on it for good measure."

"Sith balls, yes, but still, a Jedi." He was all but rubbing his hands in satisfaction. "A Jedi unable to fight back, havin' to take everything I'm dishin' out – and take plenty he did – darn near impossible, it was, to get 'im to scream, so I just tried until I succeeded. Fun stuff, fun."

"So how come he and that clone were able to escape? If the chains weren't holding him up, he should'a been collapsed on the ground unable to move."

"Jedi, I tell you. He's probably still flat on his back in that Temple, still wishin' he were dead. His eyes – you could see several times how he was perfectly at peace with dyin'. At the same time he's barely able to force words out of 'is mouth, he's tellin' the boss she can't kill 'im no matter what she does to 'im because the Force will see to it that he lives no matter what she does to 'im."

"Yeah, I guess them Jedi is hard to kill, maybe that's why Ventress hates him so much."

Aidus agreed, as behind him Anakin fought desperately for patience, balling his fists and clenching his teeth. If these two would just stop with the talk about Obi-Wan – about the horrors visited on him – he might eventually discover Ventress's whereabouts.

"Her hatred of that Jedi exceeds reason. Not only did he withstand her and not turn but he never cowered at her feet as she wanted. She wanted 'im twisted and wrung inside out as a present for that so-called master of hers and not only did she not succeed with 'im, but he escaped. Stole her most precious possession, too, the way she carried on about that lightsaber. What galled her most was his pity. The man was half-dead at her hands and instead of hating her, he pities her. I guess he wasn't man enough."

_My master is more man than all of you combined_, Anakin wanted to shout. _Man enough to forgive a monster, more man than I, for I do not forgive you for what you have done to him. _

Now, however, now was not the time to let the simmering rage come to a boil. Not yet, but when it was time, Aidus at least would know the wrath of this one Jedi.

The two soon parted, and Aidus retraced his steps. Easing the door open from the room in which he'd hidden, Anakin stepped quietly out and moved behind the man.

"Hi there, Aidus I presume," he tapped on the man's shoulder, and yanked him inside the room before the man could react, kicking the door shut behind him. Despite the light words, Anakin's eyes were cold and unblinking. Aidus half-stumbled before getting his balance, then whirled and found a lightsaber humming a half inch from his eyes.

"I'm looking for Asajj Ventress. I have a debt to settle with her."

"Like I'd tell you, Jedi." The man wasn't scared of facing an angry Jedi with a lit lightsaber; Anakin had to give him points for that. He crossed his arms and sneered, "Come to settle your master's room and board bill, have you? I'm not telling you a thing about Ventress."

"Oh, you will tell me." Anakin's tone was ice, his blade unwavering.

"Yeah?" The man's lips curled in a mockery of a smile. He was enjoying every word, just as he must have enjoyed reducing a strong Jedi to a pitiable and nearly wrecked shell of a man, one so shattered that he had not been able to rebuild himself without the help of others. "Torture one Jedi, torture another. Can't say a lightsaber saved the one you're here about."

"You had him at a disadvantage, not full power!"

"Sure did; got to take full advantage of him being disadvantaged, and all. Not often one gets to do the kind of things I was able to do to a Jedi without consequences." He leered, actually had the audacity to leer, at Anakin.

"Guess again – I'm the consequences." The blue blade was now almost brushing Aidus' nose. There was no mercy in Anakin's soul: only cold, hard horror and implacable determination. The man was a sadistic animal, no better than the Sandpeople who had made his mother's last few weeks of life a living hell. This pitiful excuse for a sentient being had aided in making near to several months of Obi-Wan's life a living hell.

"You don't get away with torture. Especially of my master, and I'm not near the forgiving man he is. I don't have his compunction about the sanctity of life when it comes to scum like you."

*

He was beginning to understand the lure of subtle torture; it had its own grace, though not the reward of a solid thump or the _snap_ of a bone stressed beyond its limits. So this was how one tortured a Jedi best – mentally; he had to admit it had a certain charm to it.

This time it would more than even out the odds.

Aidus knew just how to play him now. That kind of intensity – ah, that kind of personality was easy to play; just find the weakness and press on it. One little jab – and blink. The kid didn't go much for fancy principles. He was far more primal, and those were the kind that was easy to prey on. Touch the right button and they reacted, and the reaction was pretty predictable.

He was going to enjoy this, twice actually, for what he was going to rub in the kid's face and the fond memories it would bring back. He didn't even need to restrict himself to the truth, though the truth was more than enough to set the kid off.

Aidus's lips curled into a smile. He ignored the blade humming at his chin, his eyes affixed into the deep blue ones inches from his. The kid was going to be one hopping mad Jedi in a moment, and a moment was all Aidus needed.

"You want me to tell you something, okay, you want to know what I did to your Jedi? Let's see now. Shall I tell you how I heated a vibroblade and stuck it in 'im and twisted it?" He paused, but there was no reaction from the Jedi.

"That hot, why you know, them wounds just don't bleed the same. Frozen - the blood is a bit reluctant, that takes a bit more twisting to get it to flow freely. How 'bout the sound of snappin' bones – sometimes they crack, sometimes it's just a little bitty pop. I could tell you 'bout the drugs that set 'is every nerve on fire, makin' 'im twitch all over and want to scratch 'is skin off – you want to hear about that, too?"

His eyes continued to bore into Anakin's, neither man blinking.

"Okay, then - yeah, I'll tell you, every stinkin' thing and there ain't nothin' you can do, kid, about what's already been done or the fun I had doin' it 'cept listen."

True to his word, Aidus told him, in even more graphic detail, all the while watching the lightsaber waver in a faltering hand as the blood drained from the young Jedi's face to leave him ashen and little more than just another of Rattatak's ghosts. It was almost as much fun tormenting this one with words as it had been with knees, fists and weapons to the other one.

Almost.

Only this one wasn't bleeding or puking his guts out. Aidus sorta missed that.

*

Anakin's lips drew back in a snarl as he tried to fight off the words, feeling sick as Aidus catalogued every wound inflicted on his captive; his heart growing ever colder and his mind growing ever hotter.

He didn't want to hear this; he couldn't close his ears to it. Obi-Wan hadn't said – he had never really spoken the details of what had been done to him; the visible wounds he had seen were just a part of the entirety – and Anakin's rage pulsed within him, repulsed and overwhelmed by this knowledge.

At one particularly explicit and venal description, Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as if that would shut out the picture in his mind, silence the screams he imagined even Obi-Wan would have sent to join the layer of horror in that place, and in that moment, Aidus moved.

He slammed Anakin off his feet and wrapped both hands around the Jedi's neck, squeezing with all his might as the lightsaber went flying. A heavier man than Anakin, his weight pinned the Jedi flat as Anakin's fingers fought to break the grip. His vision blurred and he struggled for breath. This kriffin' sithspawn with his gloating words about what he had done was strangling him, and something exploded within Anakin.

_This man hurt my master! _My_ master!_

A hand slammed into Aidus's face, the fingers pushing into the eyes as Anakin's knee came up and slammed into the man's groin. Aidus didn't let go, but his grip loosened.

Anakin tore free and threw Aidus over his head, where he landed on his back with a loud thud as Anakin scrambled to his feet. He stood panting with his lightsaber at Aidus's throat, feeling his anger grow to almost overwhelming proportions.

He wanted to kill him, but still, he hesitated. The man was unarmed and at his mercy, but oh, justice would be so sweet.

_Do or do not_. A sob caught in his throat.

*

Aidus snarled up at him, waiting for that one moment of hesitation when he would escape this one's wrath. The man was one mad Jedi, but he was a Jedi, and Jedi never acted on rage. Never. He would hesitate, on the edge of giving in, constrained by his code against acting. That was a Jedi's true weakness – they would never strike a downed man. Then, that would be when he made his move.

"Your Jedi was a real treat; it took a lot to make him scream," he said, and very deliberately licked his lips, knowing it would infuriate the young Jedi into a state of pure immobility.

It was the last mistake he would ever make.

The red-hot fury, the inferno of outraged, _righteous_, anger, spread through Anakin and blind fury took him as he screamed his hatred and blotted out the horrors he had heard.

When his eyes cleared, Aidus lay dead at his feet with a lightsaber impaled through his filth-spouting mouth.

"What have I done?" Anakin stuttered, and stared at his lightsaber. A Jedi's weapon, used for defense, in protection of the innocent and he had used it to shut a mouth spewing obscenities he didn't want to hear…his eyes went suddenly cold.

There was no shame in what he did. He had merely protected his master. A man who would do such things to a Jedi and brag about it deserved death. He would do it again, were he left free and Anakin was not about to drag the man to the courts for justice.

His master's padawan would not be the means of making public the details of what Obi-Wan Kenobi, war hero, had endured in captivity.

Sometimes, vengeance was justice; sometimes, righteous anger was defensible and noble.

Killing Aidus had been, truly, the right thing to do.

So, why then, did he want to weep?

**

_Oh, Anakin_, anguish tore through the Force in the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn. His padawan's terrible destiny was becoming ever more inevitable as the Chosen One rejected his destiny and further unbalanced the Force. He who was to slay the Sith was inexorably moving ever closer to joining them.

There was still time, and still hope, for the living, but lessening all the while. Time for Obi-Wan to live out his years with his fellow Jedi; time for Anakin to become the great Jedi he was meant to be.

Or it could all be snuffed out within moments and a terrible peace result from the triumph of tyranny.

On Coruscant, Yoda startled awake from a tremor in the Force, now gone. He _reached_ out, but there was nothing to indicate what the disturbance had been. Sufficiently troubled, he clambered out of bed and sought an answer in meditation, but the Force was silent this night.

In a frilly, feminine room so unlike the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu sat upright, blinking dazedly as he listened for another thunderclap. His bed partner slept unaware beside him, a tangle of dark curls half-hiding the back that faced him.

Mace lay back on the ruffled pillow and then smiled as his fingers reached out to stroke the bare skin. He was awake; he might as well make use of the opportunity. His hands moved lightly over her shoulders and down over her soft curves, struck anew at the tactile difference in softness between the body of a man and that of a woman. She shifted and turned into his arms, smiling in sleepy acquiescence and all thoughts of the disturbance fled from Mace's mind.

Obi-Wan Kenobi trembled in his sleep, but did not waken. There was no one to hear his stifled cry this night, and it would be lost amongst all the other cries and silent screams that had bothered his sleep since his freedom from captivity.

Darth Sidious was awake – and reveling in the turmoil that had shaken the Force. With each step into Darkness, the Chosen One was drawing ever closer. His master would pull him back, given the slightest chance, given the knowledge of his padawan's battle within himself, but Anakin Skywalker would not seek redemption – he would hide from those who would save him, and in so doing, condemn them all.

The Sith lord smiled. A Force ghost mourned. And the rest – slept uneasily.


	20. Twice Bitten, Once Shy

**Chapter 20. Twice Bitten, Once Shy**

"Good morning -," Siri peered at Obi-Wan, noting the – to her – tell tale signs of a poor night's sleep as she set her tray down and took a seat across from him. Her own hadn't been much better. "Nightmares, Kenobi? Still?"

His hand propped an eyelid open as he restrained a yawn. "No, not that I'm aware of; I'm too tired to even know. Must be that creeping fatigue again."

"Oh, dear. Need a kiss to wake you up?"

"Nice offer, Tachi, but I don't think that's a cure for fatigue. This, however, may do the trick." He raised a cup of caf to his lips and buried his nose in its aroma.

"So, you don't need any more kisses, okay," Siri said, trying to tease a smile from her friend. "I had heard kissing was just as much as a stimulant as caf, but okay. You've toyed with my affections; now you'll, forgive the phrase, love 'em and leave 'em, huh – leave me 'hungry for your kisses.'"

It took a moment for the reference to make sense; he rested his head on one hand and gazed a bit red-eyed at her, shaking his head helplessly.

"_Beyond Forever_," she prompted, hiding a grin as his eyes widened in recognition at the holovid's title.

"Not me! I haven't left and – ah - I haven't, _we_ haven't - unless you took advantage of me the other night." His pretense of outrage at the very suggestion faded into a smirk. He was awake now, quite clearly.

With a slight tilt of her head, the female Jedi considered the question as if debating whether or not to tell the truth. What would Obi-Wan's reaction be if she were to imply – no, he knew very well he had been quite safe in her arms, if not, perhaps, in her thoughts.

"As much as I might have liked to, not on your couch, thank you," Siri said, rubbing her back and shaking her head. "I do have a few – very few – fond memories of that night, but not quite that fond."

A grin of remembrance crossed his face as he remembered that morning, and his uncertainty on how to greet a very much alive, warm, and soft woman lying in his arms.

"I remember waking up in a somewhat compromising position and being half-afraid that if I didn't move quickly enough, I was going to get tossed onto the floor or get a knee somewhere not at all pleasant."

"So you lay there, grinning at me like a complete idiot instead. Why didn't you move?"

He flushed, just a little bit. Well, probably for the same reason she had been in no rush to have him move away, either. It had been about as intimate a position as something truly innocent could be.

"Because," and he grinned, "I liked it where I was – and so did you."

"More likely you were too stiff to move," Siri snorted.

"Well, there's that, as well," he admitted. His grin grew wider. "Care for a repeat performance?"

Part challenge, part teasing: Siri pretended to give it serious thought. A twinge in her back had her shaking her head.

"No."

The relief in his voice was truly funny. "Oh, thank the Force."

They both burst out laughing. Siri was no connoisseur of such romantic drivel as _Beyond Forever_, but it was clear that such holovids made some intimate scenes look a lot easier than such felt in reality. That couch might work for some, say, contortionists of rather a young age.

"So…what's today's schedule for the esteemed Member of the Council?" Obi-Wan frowned and looked around the room, only to wince as Siri lightly punched his arm. "I meant you, idiot."

"The usual, then a quiet evening watching the sunset," he said, not at all perturbed by the epithet. With a sweeping bow somewhat spoiled by the wink that accompanied it, he added, "If Knight Tachi will be so kind as to share another sunset with Master Kenobi this evening."

**

Seven initiates stopped milling around and focused as Obi-Wan entered one of the small classrooms.

"Good morning, Master Kenobi," they chorused. He nodded a greeting as they all then bowed.

Curiosity along with trepidation showed on all their faces. He didn't wonder; such a meeting was without precedent, a group of initiates called to a private meeting with one of the Council members, though one on one meetings were not uncommon. By now they would have made the obvious connection – their impending birthdays, the common lack of a request to become the padawan of another Jedi.

The Jedi was not about to keep them guessing long.

He remembered his humiliation and shame at that same age, feeling unworthy, scared and yet determined to face a life he never wanted – until Qui-Gon relented and accepted him as his padawan. That pain had long since been released to the Force, but the memory of it would always linger, deep within, even if its power was long gone.

"You are all here because you have all almost reached your thirteenth life day," Obi-Wan openly acknowledged, waving a hand to indicate the younglings should sit. He remained standing, body relaxed in a conscious attempt to put them at ease.

"The Council is asking your indulgence and participation in an experiment. None of you have been chosen as padawans as yet – but we want you to know it is due to no lack within you, but lack of Jedi available to choose you. If it helps, I was sent away from the Temple just before I was thirteen for a similar reason, so I do understand the anxiety you must feel."

A hand went up, and after his nod, the young Ithorian female spoke up. "You were chosen as a padawan, sir, before your life day. That alone separates your experience from ours."

"It does,' Obi-Wan agreed. "But I was personally devastated, humiliated if you must know. I had not learned to control my temper or my impatience, you understand," he grinned, a grin that invited the others to grin with him, "and was not deemed a suitable prospect for a padawan. Your circumstances are far different.

"You should feel no shame, for how could you be chosen when there is none to choose you – any of you. Any eligible Jedi is away at war. So, as the first group of initiates to be so personally affected by the reduction in our ranks, you are the first to know of the Council's decision to keep all initiates in the Temple."

"We won't be sent away, Master Kenobi?" It was a disbelieving, yet quietly joyful voice, and the ripples in the Force echoed in all the younglings.

"No," he assured them. "You will be instructed, sometimes individually, sometimes as a group, by various masters and knights – both those resident at the Temple and those transient. Many of the convalescent Jedi will be able to work with you as they recover, also. I am in this last category, as the healers have seen fit to confine me to the Temple for the time-being and my padawan is still away on a mission of his own, so I shall be working with you to begin with."

He leaned back against the wall, hiding his amusement as the initiates took the information in. Relief was the first emotion, then uncertainty, then hope. Then another emotion crept in that at first he couldn't identify. Was it – _awe_?

"We _really_ have Master Kenobi as our instructor?"

It _was_ awe in the voice. It humbled him. He didn't deserve such a response, but he would do his best to live up to expectations.

"Yes, you really have the Jedi who once got his thumb stuck in his lightsaber clip," he assured them, hoping to lessen the untoward admiration they seemed to have for him. He was no hero, and besides, Jedi didn't need heroes. They needed nothing but belief in the Force.

Would any of them become knights? The unfortunate truth was that no one could predict what effect the lack of one on one training would do – most of the Council was convinced these – they weren't even sure what to call them – would end up serving the Jedi in ways other than as knights.

Despite that, and perhaps because of his own history, he knew these youngsters would have a better grasp of their potential in years to come than as initiates suddenly and unexpectedly thrust into a life not chosen. They would be given choices; they did not to have to face the stigma of being "not chosen."

He took a seat facing them, carefully making eye contact with each pair staring expectantly back at him. Their eager, hopeful young faces would stay with him, long

into the days to come.

"Advance training requires the presence of a master/padawan bond; the lack of this is expected to be our biggest impediment. Such bonds take time and proximity, time and close association that you will not have. That alone affects your training, you must understand. We do not know for sure how this will affect what you learn, but we shall strive to overcome this deficiency as best we can, and hope at least a rudimentary bond may be established with some of the more senior Jedi who will be helping."

The formation of the bond was rarely spontaneous; creating one was a learned skill as well. It required mutual assent and trust, especially between more individualistic species as humans. Empathy was the characteristic amplified by the Force that allowed a human mind to shed its evolutionary heritage to connect to the mind of another.

Without the mind-to-mind connection, it was a long and nearly impossible process to teach some of the deeper manipulations of the Force. Such was far easier to demonstrate than explain, and even then it took patient work and experimentation until the padawan grasped the technique.

"I expect you have many questions to ask. Please ask away."

He was bombarded with questions. Many he could not answer, but the answers he could offer gave them hope. Some of the questions they raised had not been addressed and needed careful consideration. The proposal – "Kenobi's Initiative" as some on the Council referred to it – was clearly going to be revised as it went.

It shouldn't have been surprising that one of the first questions was the name given to their new status, and how it would be marked.

"Padawan" was the first "official" rank to which a young Jedi aspired. Those younger than thirteen were technically apprentices, an informal term often used throughout a Jedi's life. This stage of training was marked in different way, by the braid behind the right ear for species with hair, by alternate means for other species.

Apprentices. Perhaps that term could be adopted by these younglings to mark their path forward, no longer initiates and yet not padawans.

With the guidance of the Force and the input of these youngsters, all might work out. The success, or failure, of the experiment was no longer in his hands alone, or even the Order's. It was now in the hands of the Force itself.

**

How to mark this transition to a new status for these younglings was clearly occupying his mind, Obi-Wan thought, as he studied the shoulder-length braid of the padawan before him.

Behind the left ear – in the center of the scalp? Yet, a braiding ceremony marked the new union of padawan, master and the Force. Three strands made the braid a symbol, a lock of the master's hair fused with the padawan's and both entwined with the Force's blessings.

Two strands to mark the student and the Force?

He was called from his musing at a soft murmur of pleasure, a sound he was well familiar with, having uttered many such in days past himself.

He would be happy never to see again the inside of the Healers Ward unless he had reason just to visit Bant on duty, perhaps one of the other healers. How many days of his life had he spent here - flat on his back or in a chair when it had been Qui-Gon or Anakin, lately Terzah, flat on his back?

He looked back over at Terzah, as the padawan straightened up and turned to face him, just as ready to leave. The boy had made a quick recovery, physically and mentally, which pleased the Jedi greatly. He quelled the words about to spill out.

"It's a rule, Terzah; a padawan released from the Healers Ward is escorted by his or master back to quarters. Since I am temporarily acting in that capacity, that is one of my duties." The rule was a time-honored one, not a formal one, sufficient to quiet the boy's protests of self-sufficiency.

Obi-Wan hid a smile as Terzah heaved another sigh of relief as they exited the Ward. They walked the hallways, though the young man's steps were lagging. While Terzah was eager to leave healers behind, understandably, he was less eager to return to empty quarters.

"Knowing of your release, your master will greet you in familiar quarters," was all he would say when Terzah inquired if his master had been in contact in the last day or so.

Terzah opened the door and stood back to allow the senior Jedi to enter ahead, should he wish to stay a minute. Obi-Wan shook his head and stepped back, indicating he would be leaving. With a minute hint of disappointment, Terzah bowed and thanked the Jedi, then turned and stepped forward – only to stop suddenly.

"Master! You're back." A big grin split his face.

"Padawan." Kulik stepped forward and placed a hand on Terzah's shoulder, then letting go of masterly formality, embraced the youth. "My padawan; you are well?" Her hands brushed gently over the padawan's scalp and injured arm, verifying for herself that the wounds were now healed.

Watching the reunion between the two, Obi-Wan was again reminded of the bonds that each master/padawan shared. Some were weak, some strong. Terzah and his master had one of the weaker bonds, but the concern in Kulik's face and the pleasure on Terzah's had again affirmed that the bond was as much a result of, as well as a cause of, the affection binding each team.

The bond, that bond and, perhaps, all bonds, were born of the Force, the Living Force. Bonds, therefore, were to be rejoiced in and celebrated.

There had been times when in pain or illness that the only comfort he could find was in Qui-Gon's gentle strokes across his forehead, times when heartsick only the warm weight of an arm around his shoulders could sooth him.

He had other memories as well, of times when he had been able to offer the comfort of his own arms to his padawan, of Anakin's face easing into peace after a nightmare or accepting some comfort from homesickness within his master's arms when it had been his mother's he had wished for.

It was a bond born of friendship and deepened by love that had allowed Siri to coax his pain from him and thus to heal.

Bonds were the connections forged by the Force amongst living beings until such time as each being rejoined the Force itself, merged into life itself and thus above the need for bonds.


	21. Missed Connections

**Chapter 21. Missed Connections**

It had been a day of affirmation, of fresh hope and promise, of a step forward into the unknown. It had been a day of recognizing afresh the bonds that tied the Jedi to each other and to the Force.

Now it was an evening of unknown possibilities and deep contentment, for he was in the company of the woman he loved.

Dinner was over and sunset was approaching. A bottle of "the best Muja sparkle" stood next to two glasses, a gift from Master Kulik to the Jedi who had taken her padawan under his wing during his recovery.

Over dinner they had spoken of the bonds that united Jedi – of bonds made and bonds yet to be made, bonds perhaps never to be made, even. They had spoken of Siri's bond with Adi, of his with first Qui-Gon, then Anakin. There had been joy in these memories, and even more joy from sharing them.

Now, as the cycle of day into night reaffirmed the very Force itself, it was merely time to relax in each other's company: two Jedi, the Force, and the sunset.

They had piled the sofa pillows on the floor against the couch itself so they had room to stretch out. It had been a spectacular one, burnished light against clouds aglow in the fiery embrace of the last of the light. As the sun touched the visible horizon it flared into brilliance, a finger of light that seemed nearly to stretch to their feet.

Siri snuggled up to Obi-Wan's shoulder as one arm encircled her shoulders. She looked up at him as the sun slid below the horizon to find his eyes fastened on hers, ignited by that last explosion of light before it coalesced into the softer hues of the time between – between day and between night, a time between moments, and a time between all that had ever been said or ever would be said.

Slowly, he bent his head and kissed her. It deepened, and her arms came up to circle his neck as his hands cupped her face. A slight tremor ran through him, then his hands dropped and his arms came around her, the weight of his body bearing them both down into the cushions.

Siri couldn't restrain a moan of pure pleasure at the contact; she surrendered to his kiss.

Anticipation tingled through her only to turn to disappointment as Obi-Wan suddenly released her and sat upright, breathing as heavily as she – well, so much for thinking she might be staying the night.

She sighed, wondering if the crazy man needed some verbal permission to continue, for she was sure she oozed willingness.

"Why'd you cut the engine just as we were heading to orbit? Your fear of flying kicking in, Kenobi?" Her breathy attempt at humor fell as flat as the moment. She could feel the tension in his back as she leaned against him, wrapping her arms under his and just holding him. She dropped a gentle kiss, a mere caress, against the back of his neck, giving him time to wrestle with whatever he was wrestling with.

"What is holding you back, Obi-Wan? By all the stars, another kiss or two like that and we – I thought we were headed for a logical conclusion to that lead-in," she whispered.

*

He could sense her confusion, wondering what made him pull back, wondering if he was holding back for his own sake, or for hers. He sighed and leaned into her, turning his head to look at her and seeing only concern and questions in her eyes.

"If I didn't stop kissing you, I don't see how we could not have – taken that journey." His tone was teasing, if a little strained.

"We haven't really talked about we feel or how we should handle it, have we, not in depth and I still have reservations. I've never wanted to be with someone I don't love, so it's never been an issue for me. The problem is I do love you. I don't want pleasure without love, and pleasure with love is – or so I had always thought – forbidden to Jedi."

With a soft sigh, he added, "Now I've been given permission to make up my own mind and do whatever the Force does not forbid me to do. So far it isn't speaking to me, other to warn me that another kiss or two like that one and I won't be thinking, I'll be doing."

From the look Siri gave him, Obi-Wan had no question that Siri had already made up her mind. His eyes narrowed a bit as he studied her.

"You think too much; I guess I'll just have to kiss you some more," she murmured. She shifted position, wrapping her arms around Obi-Wan's neck. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, "Make love to me, Kenobi," in between kisses. His heart jumped and he was too surprised to resist when she pulled him down next to her. He promptly sat back up, bringing her up with him.

"A Jedi isn't easily seduced, especially against his will," he murmured back as her lips captured his, effectively cutting off his come back as his heart thudded in his chest. Somehow he managed to pull away and used a pillow to fend her off. "Behave now."

"Are you sure you don't want to – 'misbehave'?"

When Siri batted her lashes at him, he just had to laugh, followed shortly after by Siri herself. That was one mission he had never shared actual details with anyone; even his mission report had been as neutral as possible, giving no hint of his very real embarrassment.

Both padawans and their masters had been assigned to guard a precocious late-teen girl during the final days of an election. Several prior attempts to kidnap the girl and have her father abandon his bid for office had brought the two teams to safeguard the election process.

The biggest threat had turned out to be to Obi-Wan; the girl had been a very determined teenager and Obi-Wan just a few years older – a "dreamy older man" unlike the "dweeb boys" she only knew. .

Siri had glowered, Qui-Gon had started out amused and Obi-Wan had been embarrassed by the girl's persistent attempts to corner him.

"A'brethe had no chance of succeeding," he said, laughing softly. "You do. That's why we need to discuss this first." He suddenly gave her a cheeky grin, though a spot of color bloomed in his cheeks. "I do know, however, with Anakin gone, we certainly don't have to worry about being interrupted, if," he caressed her cheek with a gentle finger, "we decide to – ah, pursue intimacy."

*

Ah, so such a happening was at least open to discussion, no longer dismissed out of hand. Obi-Wan had always found a way to change the subject, to blush so disarmingly at the same time he avoided the subject.

Yet this time he held her gaze, a slight smile crinkling his eyes as his fingers continued to trace the lines of her face. Her boldness might perhaps be the reason for the step back on his part, but it wasn't a step away. Being the man and Jedi he was, Obi-Wan would not allow himself to be driven by mere human impulses alone. Neither one of them, quite frankly, would be allowed such an indulgence on his part.

He had been honest with her regarding his hesitancy, if not his desire, and instead of addressing his concerns, she had essentially dismissed them. No, he hadn't entirely pulled away or dismissed the possibilities, so if he wished to reason past his objections before moving forward…she'd give him the opportunity to reason his way into her arms.

In truth, while she would admit she was ready anytime Obi-Wan was, she wanted Obi-Wan only as he himself would wish – without reservation or doubts – full commitment, or none.

So she would not press the issue, just live in the moment as it was given and let the future flow into the present.

"That'd be a nice change," Siri said with a little laugh of remembrance, all those interrupted dreams that had so frustrated her. "No interruptions like when – well – I dreamed we were together once, while you were gone. Just as it was getting real interesting, well…."

*

"Really?" A memory slid into place, one that held joy as well as pain. He wrapped an arm around Siri and pulled her in front of him, resting his head on the top of her head. "Yes, we were on that ship again, only this time we gave in to our feelings and I was just about to make love to you when – "

"—when something horrid and painful interrupted," Siri finished for him. They stared at each other with something akin to horror in their eyes. She pulled away from him and sat up, facing him. He could see the pain of that memory in her eyes.

"I held you in my arms – we were making love, Obi-Wan, we were – then I felt like you were torn away from me. I could – _hear_ – you protesting, _feel_ - you crying – that woman was _hurting _you! Damn it, she was hurting you while I lay in bed punching my pillow and feeling cheated because we were interrupted before we really could - damn it, damn it, damn it."

"Siri, shhh, you didn't know –"

"Don't you dare 'shhh' me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, don't even dare. That woman tore you from my arms and she – you were crying, Kenobi – while she – she – hurt you!"

Siri dashed furious tears from her eyes, daring Obi-Wan to comment. Instead, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, his silence the answer he knew she didn't want to hear. He finally released her, rubbing her back as Siri fought to release her anger at all the hurt that Obi-Wan had endured at Ventress's hands.

An uncomfortable silence followed as the two Jedi continued to look at each. "Let it go, Siri," Obi-Wan whispered, pulling her along as he – they - together breathed out the pain of that shared memory – one more memory released into the Force. She reached out a hand and brushed a tear from Obi-Wan's eyes and nodded.

After several minutes of silence, Obi-Wan leaned back against a cushion and pulled Siri against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, speaking into the top of her head.

"Is this the Force warning us? Have we made a mistake – even thinking of getting intimate? Must we end this relationship before we've even decided whether to have one?"

"I don't know, Obi-Wan, I really don't." The sadness in her voice stabbed deep into Obi-Wan's heart. She twisted in his arms to face him and a hand came up to caress his cheek. There was so much pain in her eyes; all he could do was hold her safe within his arms for he couldn't wipe that pain away, not with words, perhaps not even with his arms.

A blink of her eye chased a tear away, though one slid free anyway. She probably didn't even notice, her gaze fixed on his with such intensity that it held him still.

"I have an idea, though. You won't like it, but – let me know everything, and I mean everything she did to you. Let me know the worst, every stinking horrible detail – then hold me, make love to me, make me know deep inside that what you can survive, I can, too, and if someday you don't – I know I was able to make you happy after the worst time of both our lives."

Another tear slipped loose, this time a hand absently brushed it away.

Obi-Wan slowly shook his head, knowing what she asked for was not the way to deal with the pain of those memories. It was one of many things that held him back; the fear of doing something that could never be undone, doing it for the wrong reasons, doing it for perceived comfort when it should only be done for love.

"Are you sure you want to know – everything? I know I don't; I've been able to face and release everything I remember and have no particular desire to remember anything else – except, well, how I actually managed to defeat the mask. You're my friend, you'll always be that no matter what and that is enough for me, if that's all we are meant to be."

"Shut up, Kenobi, and make love to me, even if it's the only time."

"I – Siri –" Obi-Wan said helplessly, stroking her hair as she hugged him tight. "Not when you're crying. Not now, it wouldn't be right."

"It'll never be right, will it?"

"I don't know, I just don't know. I just know there's no way I'll make love to any woman while she's crying – or laughing, either."

The droll comment earned him a light smack, and Obi-Wan managed a small grin. At least Siri wasn't crying anymore. He wished the same were true for himself.

* * *

He woke with the sour smell of an unwashed body and the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, only to realize the smell and taste were in his mind, the remnants of the no longer remembered nightmare. It must have been a bad one, he thought, the sheets twisted around him and damp with his sweat – or tears.

It would have been so easy to bury the memories by doing as Siri had wanted: push them aside for what would have been the joy and pleasure of the moment. It would have been so easy, but it wouldn't have been right.

Bleary-eyed, he headed to the fresher to clean up before his morning meditations.

**

She woke, rubbing her eyes, tired after a night's sleep that offered no relaxation. The memory of Obi-Wan's face, his tears, had haunted her all night long. Whether whatever she had felt had been real, she knew now what the Force had shown her that night to be all too real.

She had sought to wipe out the memory of that night – those dreams – all but begging Obi-Wan to make love to her. He had been far stronger than she; he had known it was wrong. She had been weak, wanting something, anything to deaden the pain and the knowledge.

It would have been so easy, but it wouldn't have been right.

She lay staring at nothing, wishing she had the same power to wipe the tears from Obi-Wan's heart that she had wiped from his cheeks before leaving.


	22. The Consequences of Being

**Chapter 22. The Consequences of Being**

"Troubled you are, Obi-Wan." The eyes that gazed at him were soft, the countenance gentle. The concern, as always, soothed Obi-Wan nearly as much as the Force itself. With the guidance of both he could nearly always find peace when it eluded him. Now he sought answers; he could use Yoda's wise counsel.

"Yes, Master." Deciding nothing he could say would shock Yoda, no matter the potential for personal embarrassment; Obi-Wan leaned forward and settled his chin in his hand. "Siri and I – discovered we had a shared memory relating to a past event in our lives that we both experienced as if it were taking place – during my captivity. The details matched in every way possible."

"Unpleasant this was?"

"Quite the opposite – at first," Obi-Wan admitted. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the little Jedi merely stared at him; then nodded as if in understanding. "I was seeking escape from Ventress's tortures by reaching to memories of my past, almost reliving them with a twist to the actual event – only to be torn back into reality just as, well…."

"Ah, I see." Yoda scratched his ear. "Connected you two did."

"'Er, almost." A ghost of a smile graced Obi-Wan's lips, if not his eyes.

"The Force – trying to connect you it was."

"In that, 'er, way? Master Yoda, I don't think so."

"In any way it could, Master Obi-Wan. A purpose you have, your own destiny to find. Helped you the Force did."

"But I…." Obi-Wan trailed off, not sure how to put words to his confusion. He had been cut off from the Force; had not been able to reach into it for help, yet Yoda seemed to say that the Force had somehow bypassed the blocks. "You are saying that the Force –"

"Wanted you to live, yes, knew you reached out for an anchor, something to hold onto – someone you loved and someone who loved you in return."

"Why would the Force care whether or not I lived?" Yoda was silent as Obi-Wan struggled to understand. "Because its Chosen One is not ready yet – because Anakin still needs guidance – but, but there's other Jedi who could finish his training."

"Undervalue yourself you do. Appointed to be his master you are by the Force – on you much rests, not just your padawan. Question, do not. Accept what the Force offers you should, follow your instincts not just your mind. Think too much; _do_ you should more often. Listen, Obi-Wan, listen – and hear, here." He tapped his fellow Jedi in the chest.

"This is where your path to the Force is, not up there. Someday you will understand and my words remember."

If Obi-Wan didn't know better, Yoda was channeling his master. He had come to a better appreciation of both aspects of the Force over time and there was much of his late master's philosophy he had adopted, yet he could never quite submerge himself into it as Qui-Gon had done: he could not sacrifice a future being set in motion by the present to the mere moment.

"The Living Force? It has never been my strength –"

"Because always you listen above feeling, to hear with your mind before your heart for it you trust best. Connected always you are, but deeply in tune, not always. Trust your heart, Obi-Wan. Balance, Obi-Wan; balance you must find, and then you will know."

"It is Anakin who it is said will bring balance, Master, not I," he protested.

"Balance all Jedi must find, Master Obi-Wan. Your padawan, destined to bring balance it is said, find balance his master must as well, to guide him. Critical this is, for within him the balance wavers."

"I – are you saying I'm hindering Anakin from bringing balance?" If the prophecy were true, Anakin was born to bring relief to a galaxy in dire need of it. If his master were interfering with that destiny – was he obstructing the Will of the Force? The implications staggered him.

With a rare gentleness, Yoda shook his head as one clawed hand reached out to his arm and rested there.

"On the Force's path you are, a journey you are well along now but not yet at the end. Lessons there are still to be learned: for you, for Anakin, for the Jedi as well. How well they are learned, not when, are important, as well you know. Heed those lessons, Obi-Wan, important they are."

With an enigmatic smile, Yoda shook his head as if sensing the direction of his thoughts. Any answers, the old master wished him to discover for himself. The path had been laid before him, he was to delve within and find his own way upon it. The Force would guide him, if he listened – and, he smiled to himself – _heard_, as well, its whispers.

He bowed his head in acceptance.

"I shall seek that which the Force wishes of me; I will open my heart as well as my mind and let the Force dictate that balance when and how it sees fit, Master, regardless of my – personal inclinations."

Even after all this years, he could feel himself a chastised padawan once more. Such was good, for there were always new lessons to be learned and old lessons to be reinforced. One who did not see that grew arrogant and complacent, a status he abhorred.

After several moments of silence, Yoda asked, "Heard from your padawan have you, Obi-Wan?" To this query, Obi-Wan could only answer that he had not. Yoda merely grunted and scratched an ear.

"Thought I had – felt a disturbance in the Force. From where or whence it came I could not say, from your padawan it might have come, unclear that is."

"Anakin?" He closed his eyes and sought the bond. It was blocked, again. He was familiar with this by now; his padawan had maintained strong shields for some time now and often blocked the bond except on missions. Obi-Wan had often wondered if the Force had spoken to his padawan, of his destiny, if just in part, and if so, that Anakin felt compelled to protect that knowledge.

What did bringing balance to the Force mean, not just to the Force, to the Jedi and the Sith, but to Anakin himself? Prophets of Destiny were often pawns of destiny, often martyrs as well.

Was it death he foresaw? His own - or of others?

Obi-Wan would sacrifice his own life a thousand times over for peace – a million times or more. If his death meant Anakin's life, he would gladly hand it over to the Force, surely Anakin knew that and should not fear sharing that with him.

And if, instead, it should be Anakin's life that would be forfeit, he would deal with his grief in private and comfort the boy, help him prepare for the fulfillment of his role.

If only Anakin would confide in him; how could he guide he whom would not be guided?

"Anakin is alive, Master, no more do I sense."

"Alive, yes, but in pain – perhaps – pain, Obi-Wan, within; not from without."

Sudden realization brought the Jedi's eyes up to Yoda's, shocked awareness and understanding flooding the Force. "He's on Rattatak – he's sensing the layers upon layers of hate and suffering there. With his Force sensitivity it must be - devastating." One hand unconsciously reached out, stretched to the absent padawan. The psychic shock would be unimaginable; he remembered the troubled nights held within his own master's arms when a young Obi-Wan had first faced something similar without adequate defenses.

With a slow nod, the little master murmured, "Perhaps, perhaps that it was."

While his first instinct was to contact Anakin and check on him, Obi-Wan knew his padawan would never forgive him if his master checked up him on him during a mission.

This was Anakin's mission; it was up to him to call in updates and request assistance if needed, to do otherwise implied a lack of trust in both his judgment and capabilities.

'I shall place my trust in the Force, as always. And in Anakin." Despite his words, his eyes were troubled, for at this moment, the burden of a master weighed heavily upon him.

"So must we all," Yoda agreed heavily. "Trained him well, you have, Master Obi-Wan; now trust we must your lessons he has learned. On his shoulders the future now rests; your role still to guide but no longer to teach, until the time comes for the final lesson."

"You're not thinking of having Anakin take the trials are you?" Obi-Wan found that vaguely alarming; there were so many ways Anakin was not yet ready.

What would Anakin's trials revolve around – letting go of that he valued as he would suggest? Complete surrender to the Force's will, rather than his usual attempts, admittedly somewhat successful, of trying to bend it to his own will?

"Not ready he is," Yoda agreed, nodding gently as if he sensed Obi-Wan's relief. "Learn he must to put the Force ahead of himself at all times he must, Obi-Wan. Asks he does not how he might serve it, but asks it to aid him instead."

"He will learn. All padawans must learn this lesson, if none other."

Yoda squeezed his eyes tight, before reluctantly stating, "Too late he might learn this, Obi-Wan, too late. So the Force warns me."

A trickle of fear shivered up Obi-Wan's spine at these words. "Always in motion is the future as you say, Master Yoda." He wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure – Yoda, or himself.

"Yes, yes, know this we both do – visions we both have, which is why the Force has not revealed all to me, or I to you. Many futures are yet possible, many futures. No more will I say." Yoda sighed and deliberately changed the subject. "How goes the training with our younglings?"

Recognizing he would get no more answers from Yoda, Obi-Wan settled back. "Well enough, it seems, considering our utter lack of experience in such training."

**

Shaken by slaying Aidus, Anakin fussed with unneeded tweaks to his fighter as Artoo watched, occasionally chirping at him.

'No, Artoo, we will find Ventress. However long it takes, I'll take." After a questioning hoot, Anakin just shook his head. "The war will continue with or without me. Ventress is a threat, not just to Obi-Wan, but to the entire war effort. You didn't hear what all she and Aidus," he blinked back tears of angry rage, "what all they did to Obi-Wan. If you had, you'd be urging me to action."

A mournful whine had Anakin patting Artoo's dome in sympathy.

"Yes, I'm a bit upset. No one should have to experience what my mother or Obi-Wan went through; whoever can do what they did deserve whatever it takes to stop them from hurting others. The only thing I mind is that I acted without thought, as a man, not a Jedi. They got the justice they deserved; I was able to –" let free his rage, empty himself of the fear and the pain, "I was able to administer it. I'm protecting the innocent; it's my job to save them."

He swiped a hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over.

"They deserved to die; Aidus deserved to die. The settlers on Tatooine understood; they applauded what I had done. Vermin, they said, savage vermin who preyed on the weak and didn't have a shred of basic humanity, not one…one worthwhile feeling."

_Stifling heat; not a breath of wind, just as there was no more breath from his mother, her body limp in his arms, her hand reaching to his face only to fall short of its goal as death stole her away._

_There had been another mother there, one still breathing. She'd died face down, using her body as a shield to protect her young one as his blade had stolen her breath as well. He'd toed her dead body aside to find her still-living baby crying beneath her, milk still dripping from its lips, crying softly for the breast torn from its mouth. When he'd left, not one living thing remained._

_No breath, of air or wind. No breath, of anything once living. _

_Only stifling heat and flaming rage – and the tears to quench them had not come, not in time, to cool the fever._

"I'd saved their wives and children, they said, Artoo. _Saved them_; I was meant to save them, and so many others. I only fulfilled a part of my destiny, that night."

He wiped another tear away.

"The Chancellor understood this; he, too, said I only did what was necessary and only human of me; that I had saved the weak and the innocent from savages. That's what Aidus and Ventress are, savages. Savages!"

Artoo whined.

"Obi-Wan will understand, Artoo, just like the Chancellor. He will understand, he must understand – only I don't dare tell him. I don't want to bring it all back, all the horror and all the pain – the humiliation and degradation he suffered through. He shouldn't have to relive that again. Keeping silent protects him. We keep silent, Artoo."

A sad beep greeted this order.


	23. Coming to Terms

**Chapter 23. Coming to Terms**

Circumstances conspired to keep Obi-Wan and Siri apart, or so Siri hoped. It wasn't conscious avoidance, surely, for Jedi faced their fears and actions. Was she avoiding Obi-Wan – because of the pain she feared she might see in his eyes – or the pain he might see in hers?

Just when it seemed the Force was bringing them together, it seemed that it had then torn them apart.

Why?

It had certainly seemed it was issuing them a warning not to embark on a personal relationship. If so, why then had the Force allowed, even seemed to encourage, that degree of closeness, only to deny it? It wasn't a test, or was it? A test of limits, of love, to see that it could remain subservient to the Force rather than ascendant over it?

_You won, if so_. _We parted, regardless of personal desires; not hearing your will clearly, we parted when we might have been together as it seemed you once wished._

The Force seemed to embrace her within her meditations. A new thought intruded – if it was a test, was it a test they had passed? They had chosen to forego personal inclinations; they had chosen the Force.

Just where did this leave her? The Force did not demand she sacrifice her love; it did not ask her to release it as she and Obi-Wan had released each other the night before. The Force – the Force _wanted_ them to be sure in their own minds that they were putting the Force ahead of their personal desires before embarking on a relationship!

With growing understanding, Siri determined she needed her master's experience in helping her to interpret all that had happened. No doubt Obi-Wan would do the same with Master Yoda; she had sensed him meditating with the Force as well, in some dim corner of her awareness.

Adi didn't seem at all surprised to see her padawan at her door shortly after midday meal.

She ushered Siri in and turned to find Siri leaning forward, knees on elbows. As soon as they made eye contact, Siri was speaking, even before Adi could take a seat.

"Adi, do you think that something – upsetting – can be perceived as anything other than a warning?"

Trying not to smile, for she seemed to understand this was anything but humorous to her padawan, Adi carefully considered her answer, before apparently deciding that a touch of humor might be just what Siri needed right now.

"That's a broad question with many answers, Padawan. If one sees an injustice occur, does that spur one to see that the injustice is rectified – or to walk away? If one's colleague returns injured in spirit as well as body, does one accept the upset of knowing the cause in order to help that one heal? If one smells Master Yoda's stew, most certainly one should rightfully take that odor as a warning and stay well away, if one is human and wishes not to be sick."

Siri's nose wrinkled involuntarily. "I do see what you're getting at, but," she twisted her hand within her lap. "If one is – getting close to someone – and you find you share a memory of nearly that same situation, not to mention a horrible interruption of that moment – should one take that memory, if that was what it was – as a warning not to engage in, certain behavior?"

She didn't want to meet Adi's eyes, but she risked a glance upwards through her lashes. Her former master was frowning, but not in disapproval, more like deep in thought. She finally moved over to sit beside Siri, taking her hands within her own.

"You and Obi-Wan." She took a deep breath. "Have you meditated upon this?"

Siri nodded. "At first I thought the Force was screaming a warning – don't, whatever you do, do this. I had a dream, well, it seemed very real at the time, while Obi-Wan was still captive, only to find last night that Obi-Wan had it as well, and in both our cases the dream was horribly interrupted – by Ventress. We shared that memory, Adi – we were, were perhaps moving towards - you know - intimate relations, just as we had in dreams," she flapped a hand, trying not to blush, "and then we discovered that shared memory."

_I used to be able to speak to Adi about such things, long ago…when it didn't matter so much. Before – before Obi-Wan, before the possibilities had narrowed down to Obi-Wan; when I struggled to understand only dawning adulthood._

"So what made you think it was the Force warning you to, ah, not pursue the behavior you think you were about to engage in?"

"It frightened me," Siri said after a moment of reflection. "Obi-Wan was in such pain; he was crying, Adi, he was torn from my arms back into such horrible pain."

Her master's eyes were gentle as they met Siri's, as if Adi considered how best to phrase her words. "So he reached out to you – and made a connection, is that right?"

At Siri's nod, Adi added, "You must know I am not in favor of you and Obi-Wan, of any Jedi, pursuing a relationship, yet I accept that it is not my decision or my approval you need, but the Force's alone. On that basis, I must ask that you consider carefully what the Force actually did."

"It showed us both sharing Obi-Wan's pain," Siri all but whispered, closing her eyes.

"My dear padawan, yes; 'sharing.' Imagine how badly Obi-Wan must have needed something, or someone, to hold onto –so the Force gave him something tangible to hold onto – you. In the midst of his pain, he knew he wasn't alone."

Adi reached out a hand and brushed a tear off Siri's cheek with a finger as her padawan leaned into the gentle touch as she thought on those words.

"He had me to hold onto." Siri bowed her head, suddenly understanding. Last night had been no more and no less a test than life itself was. It had been an affirmation of their love, not condemnation. The shared pain had been a gift to two people who needed each other, the memory a reminder.

Now she knew why the Force had chosen to all but connect their hearts and minds when the result was only pain, both then and at a later date: the pain was not the result; the pain had been the ignition to the connection. Obi-Wan had reached into his heart to find what he needed to survive, and the Force had seen to it that he found her.

She knew now what she had always suspected: the Force did truly love Obi-Wan.

**

Determined to face Obi-Wan before anything could turn awkward, Siri approached the Jedi as he sat pensively munching on his breakfast. Neither had seen or spoken to the other the day before. He looked up at her approach and nodded to a seat beside him.

"Hi, Kenobi." He grinned at her tentative greeting. "We're okay, aren't we? It wasn't – us – you know, but the shock of – that memory."

"I know, and I agree."

With that, the easy familiarity was reestablished. Though it had never seemed in any danger, any possibility of that had been faced and overcome. Obi-Wan rested his hand on hers, curling his fingers over hers.

"I spoke to Master Yoda yesterday, and you know," he shook his head in wonder, "nothing ever surprises him. He either has a pipeline direct to the Force for all the latest, ah, gossip – or he hides in ducts and observes all of us."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Me neither."

He let go of her hand and took another bite of his meal. After a moment, he added with a sideways look at Siri, "He all but implied that – well – it was a good thing the Force was doing, that it connected us, to give me something to hang onto when I needed that more than almost anything. Maybe it wasn't a warning, but a blessing."

"A blessing, yes, though my heart didn't think so at the time."

"Anytime we're together, Siri, it's a blessing – even if in disguise." He winked at her, but he wasn't teasing her. He meant it, every word.

"Yeah, I agree."

They smiled at each other and resumed eating.

**

Leaving Rattatak had been far easier than his arrival. Anakin did not know whether he was pleased or not.

Action would mean he would be focused on getting away, on Ventress's tail, not stuck in recriminations and regrets. Maybe if he had to fight free he could fight free of his memories.

He was a Jedi. A Jedi!

And he had killed.

Not in cold blood, never, but in the throes of heated passion, of rage uncontained and unleashed. It was the freed slave, the man, the human being driven by impulse and righteous indignation that had driven his actions.

A soft chirp interrupted.

"I'm okay, Artoo," he reassured the little astromech droid. "No, I'm not hurt."

He ran a hand through his hair. It was the truth, but only part of the truth, and so help him, he didn't understand why. The settlers on Tatooine had understood; Padme had understood. Later, the Chancellor, as well.

So why did a part of him wonder – if the Jedi would not? He had never so longed for his master's wisdom; he had never been so happy not to confess his deeds.

**

A Sith lord reveled in the emotion that still rippled through the Force, should one actively listen for it. Anakin Skywalker was not just falling into his hands, but plummeting, but a stubborn core of Jedi determination and spark of that innocent boy from long ago still held enough sway.

It wasn't time.

Not yet.


	24. Moving Forward

**Chapter 24. Moving Forward**

Jayren was happier than Siri remembered seeing him in years. He had been truly happy immersed in his research, but the Jedi had never been an inward-turning, solitary man.

Now he was back in the thick of what passed as normal Temple life and enjoying every second of it. There was a new sparkle in his eyes and a twist to his lips that could only be a smile. True to his word, he had thrown himself into fine-tuning his Force skills to maneuver safely in his hover chair.

Even those who muttered about his utter lack of decorum were seen to smile behind their hands, paws or other appendages.

Siri would not be surprised to hear Jayren had challenged Master Yoda to a hover chair race; she would only be surprised if Master Yoda turned it down. Whispers indicated such had already taken place in an unused portion of the Temple, away from witnesses.

At Obi-Wan's urging, Siri had stopped by to observe training. Masters Karol, Ha'toth'k, and Ilarond were working with two apprentices each while the remaining three were mesmerized by Jayren. Ha'toth'k was flapping a wing, just as she had done while imparting the finer points of astronavigation for many decades.

Her melodic chirps and twitters somehow stood up to Karol's deep rumble and Ilarond's sharp barks. The youngsters were attentive, barely noticing the observer.

After watching for a while, Siri dragged Obi-Wan out of the room, checked around to be sure no one was in sight, and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"Oh, love; you've done wonders for Jayren, involving him."

"Humph, your hugs save for private, your kisses, too." Yoda tapped her ankle, looking up at her just as she was about to add a kiss for good measure. Obi-Wan smirked, for he had seen the little Jedi while Siri had merely looked around, not down.

"Smirk you do not, either." The gimer stick poked at Obi-Wan who hastily backed away, avoiding a jab at his ankle. "Dilly dally you should not; your younglings inside they are. With each other you may play later."

With a grunt that passed for laughter, Yoda limped into the room as Obi-Wan and Siri looked at each, mouthed, "Play with each other?" shrugged in unison and followed the diminutive master within.

Immediately all activity ceased and all within bowed in welcome.

"Come to see what you have learned – and what I may teach," he said, pointing his stick at one and all as he stood before them.

**

The Chancellor's "Well done, Anakin, well done," still resounded in Anakin's memory. The reassurance soothed the churning in his stomach and quieted the tumult within his mind.

He _had_ done well.

He had not been able to save his mother, but he had saved his master from one threat. By saving his master, he had also helped to thwart one threat against the Republic and the man who so valiantly led it. Obi-Wan's death would be devastating to more than just his padawan, but to the war itself.

War required much from those who fought, not unlike the Force. What one did in service of the greater good was, by definition, good itself. It was not what one did, but who one did it for, and why.

Yet a tiny part of him continued to whisper that his master would not agree, nor really, any Jedi. One could not defeat evil by embracing the same was one of the earliest Jedi tenets drilled into him. Do not become that which you seek to defeat, for then you fight yourself, not for others.

That part of him that sought his master's approval and understanding at least had a rationalization that stood: he had fought in defense of one once defenseless; he had killed one who would only kill again.

Self-defense did not need defending, and not one soul in the galaxy would disagree with that.

Not one.

**

Obi-Wan was celebrating: the healers had released the Jedi to Temple duty, including full participation in Council. He broke the news over dinner, his guests Yoda, Mace, Adi, Siri, Bant and Jayren. He was disappointed that Anakin could not join them, and a bit worried as well, for he had not heard from his padawan as yet.

"No fish, Mace," he observed casually, when he invited the senior Jedi. "Yoda's bringing his stew."

The very mention of that dish reduced even such a Jedi as Mace Windu, terror of the padawans, to a sputtering man suddenly and desperately attempting to recall a prior engagement to avoid a dinner he had just agreed to attend. Obi-Wan wore a look of innocence as Mace pulled himself together and sniffed, "Not even for a joke would you ask Yoda to bring that stuff since you'd never get rid of the smell. Fine, I'll be there, but if Yoda's stew is there, I'll – make you eat it and laugh like a hyena as you do."

"Deal."

At Obi-Wan's ready agreement, Mace abandoned his attempt to find an escape clause and reaffirmed his attendance, with just the hint of a smile twitching at a corner of his mouth. It was a bit pitiful, in a way, how rarely he permitted himself to be so human. Obi-Wan would never have guessed this even a few years back; it was one of the things he had discovered since being named to the Council and spending more time in Mace's presence.

Mace had a wicked sense of humor, rarely unleashed and shown to very few.

It was almost worth asking Yoda to bring his stew by, even at the cost of stinking the place up for a week, not to mention having an upset stomach for at least that long, just to hear Mace follow through on his promise.

If the stew were less odiferous and the stomachache merely one evening, he would have been sorely tempted.

Mace arrived early, his nose twitching as he saw that Yoda had preceded him, sniffing delicately as he slowly entered. Finding nothing like noxious swamp gas mixed with methane, he finally relaxed.

That was Yoda's cue.

Already in on the joke, Yoda slyly offered, "My stew you seek? To my quarters come tomorrow, stew we will share."

Mace stiffened.

"That stuff is poison and should be banned," Mace shot back testily, advancing menacingly towards the diminutive master. Not at all perturbed and somehow not moving a muscle as Mace loomed over him, Yoda yet somehow recoiled in mock horror at the malignity expressed towards his favorite dish.

"Eyes my stew does not have."

Mace threw his hands up into the air and groaned. This was a side of the stern Jedi master no ordinary Jedi was ever privileged to witness. Adi and Obi-Wan were no ordinary Jedi; they merely grinned.

Mace whirled and stabbed a finger at Obi-Wan. It was a look that would have made Padawan Kenobi gulp and try to unobtrusively move behind his master's broad back. It didn't faze Master Kenobi in the slightest.

"Kenobi, you are pushing it – I should make Bant haul you back to the Healers Ward and spoon feed that stew to you," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"The healers take vows to do no harm, I believe," that individual pointed out as Adi covered an incipient smile with a hand. Mace stood balefully eyeing them both.

"Why, Mace, you don't want to freeze that expression on your face, do you?" Turning to Yoda, Adi observed, "The venom in that look should make a nice addition to your stew, Master Yoda, if you could just distill it."

Mace turned his head and glared at Adi, ready to retort when Bant and Siri arrived. He swallowed whatever he had been about to say, reverting once more to his normal stoic Jedi personality – after allowing just a hint of grin of amusement to touch his features. It was hard to see, but it was there for the observant.

Obi-Wan gestured to the snacks as he prepared drinks, handing them around just as Jayren arrived.

With a quick glance into the room, Jayren sedately maneuvered into the room; then suddenly shot forward, barely avoiding Obi-Wan, who adroitly stepped aside without spilling a drop. Assorted Jedi scattered before him with Bant and Siri literally diving off to one side.

Yoda, however, deliberately stepped in front of him and with a negligent wave of a three-fingered hand stopped the hover chair just inches away from a crash. Only the hover chair's repulsorfield kept Jayren from tumbling head first over Yoda's head onto the couch.

"Thanks, Master Yoda, but I was able to stop on my own," he said with an unrepentant and totally cheerful attempt at a grin, one corner of his mouth pulling up. "Hey, Bant, Siri, it's safe to come out now."

"Humph. Reckless you still are!" Yoda scolded.

"_Not_ fully tamed, I see." Obi-Wan crossed his arms and stared at his friend as Bant and Siri picked themselves off the floor. Siri was laughing, but Bant was wearing an indignant frown.

"Aw, I was only displaying the fine control I have once I saw the way was clear; I really didn't need Master Yoda to stop me, though thanks again, Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan's glare softened to an amused shake of his head and Yoda snorted. Mace stared, a bit bemused, as Siri glanced over at Bant and remarked dryly, "No damage that I can see, Bant – I didn't hear a crash and he's not grimacing in pain."

"He might be shortly," Bant said grimly, advancing on the Jedi as Jayren gulped.

"You were quite graceful there, Bant." The compliment earned him a grunt and gentle smack on his arm.

"If you had hurt yourself I wouldn't be too gentle fixing you up, you crazy Jedi."

"I thought healers were all gentle beings – okay, okay – what – umph." The last part of his sentence was muffled as Bant hugged him, recognizing that he was one step closer to regaining the life he had once led. Jayren would never regain most of his physical abilities, pre-injury, but he was re-emerging into the larger world of the Temple, rather than secluding himself with his studies.

Now was as good a time as any for Obi-Wan to share his own good news.

He waited until Bant sat down, along with the rest of his friends.

"As each and every one of you knows, it was a difficult struggle to recover when I came back." Everyone sobered at the reminder as Obi-Wan stood facing them. "There were times I felt lost and times I felt afraid, but I never felt alone – because each and every one of you was there, letting me know I didn't have to face it alone. My – family – was there to support me."

He stopped and looked around at each Jedi there, once again wishing his padawan were present as well. Anakin had been there for him, so many times, reassuring him that the long nightmare was truly over when the darkness of night mimicked the darkness of a reality now past.

He moved over and sat on the arm of Siri's chair and pulled her into a one-arm hug, gazing down into her eyes. "Siri, thank you."

His other arm swept around the room, embracing them all with a gesture. "Master Yoda, Mace, Adi, Bant, Jayren – thank you all. I've been declared fit for Temple duty. I haven't and won't be given my final medical release for some time yet, I've been told, but…."

He wasn't given a chance to finish, let alone explain that the healers had tentatively identified the trouble in the neuron receptors tied to the limbic system within his cerebral cortex. There was damage to specific intracellular receptors possibly caused by an interaction between secretions of the grubs he had been forced to ingest and his body's autoimmune response, affecting the midichlorians. In essence, once overwhelmed, the midis went into hibernation.

It was far more complicated than that, Obi-Wan was given to understand, but the devised course of treatment showed such success that the healers were all but confident that given time his Force connection would be strong and sure once more. Until then, his activities remained restricted.

Siri hugged him as the others crowded around him in as exuberant a display as Jedi would show: Yoda was beaming, Bant and Adi fought Siri for a chance to hug Obi-Wan, and Mace even smiled as he clapped Obi-Wan's shoulder.

Once the fuss died down, Obi-Wan captured Jayren's gaze and added casually, "By the way, Jayren, day after tomorrow you're in charge of the Apprentice Training program – if you want the responsibility."

Shock – and delight – had Jayren sputtering and protesting; his mouth twisting in the closest approximation of a grin his damaged nerves could manage. Jayren loved every minute he spent with the initiates, and each of them knew the likelihood was that he would never again be capable of fieldwork.

The offer was made only after careful consideration, with the approval of the healers and the Council. Now it needed only Jayren's acceptance, a verdict little in doubt.

"You're more than capable; you have the time and the inclination – you just have to wipe that happy expression off your face or the apprentices will end up in charge."

"I could kiss you, Obi-Wan." A Force pull nearly pulled Obi-Wan off his feet before the Jedi planted his feet firmly in place and raised a finger of admonition at his friend.

"Well, don't. I don't kiss my fellow Jedi – um," he tried not to look at Siri who contracted a sudden case of the giggles as Obi-Wan coughed discreetly, "ah, certainly not before other Jedi."

"Well, I do – when there's a reason," Siri spoke up. She gave Jayren a kiss on the cheek than turned to Obi-Wan, her eyes dancing in amusement. "You, come here, you get one too, for your good news."

She planted a demure kiss on his cheek, followed by a wink that the others couldn't see, since Siri was facing away from them.

"Now, come on, after all this excitement, I'm hungry and dinner smells delicious. Let's eat!"

**

The murmur of voices broke into Obi-Wan's meditations as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, gaze affixed outwards while his attention was focused inwards. He had taken advantage of an early arrival and solitude to reflect upon the past few months.

He had been tested nearly to the edge of his limits and somehow endured what had so nearly broken him. In the process of recovery, of healing, of rebuilding himself he had learned that he was stronger than he had ever thought, for he had the strength of others to augment his own – not just the Force, but friends and colleagues. He had come out stronger and hopefully better for his recent ordeal, not just as a Jedi, but as a man: the Force giving him so much more than had been taken from him by the hands of those closed to the Force.

He resolved to take that strength, to rededicate himself to the service of the Force. No matter what paths he was asked to walk he would not walk alone for the Force walked at his side.

A moment longer he lingered, eyes closed, feeling the Force swell and grow stronger as Yoda and Mace, then others, entered the sunlit chamber.

The Force was strong here; nearly tangible, giving life to what was merely a circular room in a tower above the Temple. Its placement did not mark the elevation of the Council over the Order, but a connection between the Temple, the planet, and all the vast wonders of the galaxy that lay beyond vision.

_Places_ could indeed have souls; this place, the seat of the Jedi Council, breathed wisdom and tranquility, even when punctuated by petty squabbles and pointless bickering. Were it not for the latter, Obi-Wan mused with a small smile, this place would be a shrine, rather than the home of the Force's imperfect servants.

Tip tapping his way to Obi-Wan's side, Yoda peered solemnly at Obi-Wan as that Jedi opened his eyes and blinked, suddenly dazzled by the sun shining in his eyes. He turned and kneeled before the diminutive master so they would be eye to eye. A small hand reached to his shoulder and rested there, sleepy eyes studying the younger Jedi.

"An imperfect creation of the Force I am as are you, but cherished by the Force are we all. Shines brightly upon you it does, Obi-Wan, happy as we all are to have you restored to health and again amongst us."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bowed his head, utterly unaware how the sun at his back now rimmed his face in a halo of light so that he was lighted both within and without.

"Come, Obi-Wan, time it is to begin afresh." With an all-too-innocent smirk, Yoda turned and casually added over his shoulder, "No fidgeting you will do today, eh?"

Obi-Wan restrained a small grin, all too aware he was within gimer stick range as Mace signaled to those present to sit.

He settled in and crossed his legs.

"Welcome back, Obi-Wan," Adi murmured from her seat, inclining her head as other colleagues echoed her, a recognition that today, for the first time in months, Master Kenobi was in his Council seat prepared to fully participate as another day's session was called to order.

Mace acknowledged his return to Temple duty for the benefit of the record and the rest of the Council as the first order of business and then nodded to a colleague who indicated he wished the floor.

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up with a decided hint of amusement in his precise voice.

"I wish to commend Master Kenobi – you," he looked directly at Obi-Wan then, "for showing true courage and fortitude in both enduring what might have broken any Jedi and for facing your ordeal afterwards without bitterness or anger."

"Master Mundi – I'm afraid that's somewhat inaccurate," but Obi-Wan was overridden as Ki continued over his protest.

"Yes, you wrestled with the demons of hate and rage – we know that, Master Kenobi. But you fought them and you vanquished them. You triumphed over adversity. That is what I wish to see acknowledged for the record."

"I did not overcome all that on my own," Obi-Wan said graciously, bowing his head, for really, what else could he do, besides try to keep his embarrassment tucked out of sight. He glanced to his left and sighed. No, he didn't dare fidget, for there really was no place to tuck his legs safely away.

Yoda's gimer stick really should be banned from the Council chamber.


	25. Prelude to Love

**Chapter 25. Prelude to Love**

"Kenobi, you outdid even yourself this time," Siri sniffed appreciatively at the tantalizing aromas that greeted her as soon as she walked in. If there was one positive out of Obi-Wan's confinement to the Temple, it was all these delicious dinners she was treated to, several times a week.

He looked over at her and waved a spoon in greeting. "Dinner will be ready shortly – it smells good, don't you think? This recipe may be a keeper."

Siri came to his side and tasted it, dipping a finger in the sauce.

"Umm," she agreed enthusiastically, ignoring Obi-Wan's frown for ignoring the offered spoon. "You're really been working on your culinary skills as you hang out here at the Temple. Makes sense, all too soon you'll be back on field rations. Has anyone talked to you about when you'll be sent back to the war?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth then she nearly groaned – why, oh why, had she brought the war up? Why spoil a nice evening reminding them both of the separation ahead, of the return to frenetic action interspersed with too few quiet moments, of the pain, the suffering and the deaths he would have once more to face?

"I'm sorry."

The look on her face must have been terribly apologetic, for he seemed more amused at her reaction to her own words rather than actually attentive to the words themselves.

"Not for a while yet; probably a few weeks or so. The Council is still concerned about my mental stability, if you ask me." He winked, and Siri nearly choked on the cup of caf he had handed her. "I still need my final medical release and I'm waiting for Anakin to contact me. He'll just have to give up the chase for now and for that I must admit I am somewhat pleased." For a moment his eyes clouded over.

"You're afraid for him."

"I'm afraid for both of them," his answer startled her. "I fear Anakin has taken this far too personally, and Ventress– she deserves a chance. If Anakin catches up to her and she pushes him, one of them will die. I want to see her given a chance to discover her true potential."

A flash of rage flared up in Siri and a bit heatedly she snapped, "That woman nearly killed you, Obi-Wan. She deserves justice, not a chance. She brutalized you and even now you're haunted by her, aren't you?"

Suddenly weary eyes stared at her, blinked; the confession was quiet. "I'm haunted by many things, Siri, sights and sounds I must release into the Force each time they return. I've seen too much – far too much for one man – too much for one lifetime. I've been responsible for other things – things perhaps that were beyond my control – but still my responsibility. If saving one tormented soul makes up for that – I have to try."

That was why she loved him, Siri decided then and there. He cared, and was no longer afraid of letting others know. He only hid more personal feelings, like he did with his padawan, perhaps with her, too.

"Let her go."

"I can't."

"She hates you."

"I know," he closed his eyes; then pulled himself together.

"At the moment, yes. She doesn't know anything else." Pained eyes met hers, eyes that pleaded with her to understand.

"Force, Siri, what if she was Anakin – she learned to hate. She can learn not to. If Anakin, or you, were lost to evil and hate, don't you think I would try everything within my power to pull you back as long as I thought I had a chance? No matter the deeds you did? I would not abandon you to your fate without a fight."

The two of them stared at each other without blinking, and Obi-Wan said softly, "Don't be angry, please. I cannot be other than I am."

"I'm not angry; I'm exasperated with you." Siri released her anger with a sigh. The tension lifted.

"You are who you are, and that's why I love you, you big gundark. Your heart is too darned big, and I'm afraid your heart is going to get you killed someday." Siri took the spoon out of Obi-Wan's hand, placed it on the holder, and wrapped her arms around the surprised Jedi as she kissed him. Exultation when his arms came around her ignited tenderness to passion and was repaid when his return kiss was everything she wanted: more, far more, than the gentle kisses of friendship preceding.

It woke new hope within her, the sense of rightness and completion she felt, as if the Force itself was truly urging them together, that this relationship had a purpose and meaning even beyond their comprehension.

"So, ah," it was hard to speak, being draped around Obi-Wan's neck, feeling the heat of his skin under her lips and the thud of his heart against hers, "has the Force helped you come to the same understanding, love, as I have about our relationship – not just what it is now, but what it can be? That as long as we are discreet about it, we have permission from not just the Force, but Yoda and Adi, if we avoid attachment? Tell me you haven't given up thinking about it – of us."

"How could I not think about it? Dreams shape themselves into Qui-Gon's voice, encouraging me and the Force isn't slapping me silly. I sleep with you in my arms and wake to find my arms around my pillow." He kissed her forehead and stepped back, holding her at arm's length, yet still holding onto her.

"But thinking about it and doing something about it – can we truly handle it? Could you let me walk out of here to my death? Could I do the same? Can we let go – because if we can't, we should admit it now before it's too late."

Before either of them could say anything more, Obi-Wan's eyes caught sight of the saucepan which was about to lose its contents in a great slurping bubble.

"Oh, dear!" he exclaimed with a laugh, hastily stirring the pot and turning down the heat. "I think it's a little more than ready, but at least it didn't burn. It should be okay."

Obi-Wan flushed as he glanced at her, recognizing that his words applied to them as well: he had turned down the heat on more than just the food. His awareness of her and his response to her kiss radiated through the Force – a slight self-consciousness that soon evaporated.

Despite the near-eruption of sauce, everything else stayed under control and dinner was soon on the table. By unspoken agreement, they talked of inconsequential things that had nothing to do with them, though Siri couldn't help but wonder if the interruption in the kitchen might have been interpreted by Obi-Wan as intervention by the Force – the crazy man seemed quite adept at finding reasons to avoid pursuing a relationship, no matter his personal inclinations.

Siri accepted a post-dinner drink and settled back with a happy sigh as Obi-Wan took a seat across from her.

"That was just excellent." Her eyes roamed over her friend, noting the healthy flush to his skin and the way his clothing no longer hung on him, such a far cry from the gaunt, unsteady man with weary eyes and unshed horror none too tidily tucked within.

Time, hard work, and inner strength had restored him to a condition even better than before, for while the Jedi would always be in control, the inner man more often peeked through and was given expression.

"Eating like this must be responsible for filling you back out – not that it was that easy to see how thin you were under Jedi tunics, but I could easily see it in your face. As distinguished as you look with that beard, however, I do wish you had stayed clean-shaven."

"I'm not a padawan anymore, and I feel and look like one without it. Besides, it's less trouble on a battlefield and gives me a certain air of authority." His hand rubbed over his chin reflexively as he grinned at her.

"Like Kenobi needs facial hair to give him an air of authority," Siri scoffed. "You know, Qui-Gon would be awfully proud of you if he saw you now. You've come a long way since you were that all but rejected initiate with potential that no one but Yoda saw."

"I've had good teachers along the way. Even Anakin has pushed me to where I am. I am who and what I am because of others, I'm sure; without them, I would be lucky to be a Jedi, maybe a barely competent one, I suppose. 'Capable,' anyway." He grinned at her, clearly beyond annoyance at what had so vexed him once.

Old irritation regarding that cool assessment that had damned her friend with faint praise flared once more. "Qui-Gon Jinn would hear an earful from me were he around. 'Capable.' Stuck between him and the Council, then thrown away for some boy –"

"That 'boy' is my padawan and can't be blamed for Qui-Gon's less than ringing endorsement," Obi-Wan was quick to remind her. "He was right, in a way. "Capable' isn't an insult and I was foolish to take it as such then."

"It's not a compliment, either." She crossed her arms, daring Obi-Wan to disagree.

"Qui-Gon's intent was not to throw any compliments my way; he was intent on following what he thought was the Force's prompting. Siri, please, the past is long over, let it go. All the hurt of that time, all my less than charitable thoughts have been long released into the Force, to be replaced by fond memories of all the good times."

"You're a forgiving man, Kenobi." She settled back, only somewhat mollified, as Obi-Wan stood and shook his head at her before heading to the kitchen.

"Siri, 'capable' is just one word meaning 'can do the job.' Sure, it may imply to minimum standards, but that's not the only definition. The opposite of 'capable' is 'incapable' and no one doubts I'm capable; not even Anakin or," he gave her a side long glance and grinned, "you, though you certainly had a pretty low opinion of me for years, admit it."

"You were just as irritated with me as I was with you," she countered, getting up to help Obi-Wan by clearing the table as he set about washing up.

"Never," he denied, hiding a grin.

"Liar. I thought Jedi didn't lie." She flipped a finger full of sudsy water in his face, making him sputter and gasp.

"I wasn't. I was far more irritated with you than you were with me," he stated, and promptly dumped a handful of water over her head. She stood there dripping as they both stared at each other, and burst out laughing as water dripped - plop plop plop - onto the floor at their feet.

Her clothing was virtually clinging to her, warm and sudsy. She futilely tried to brush it off, but she was too wet for mere hands, even a dishcloth, to adequately dry her. With an apologetic laugh, Obi-Wan gave that up and tentatively offered a solution.

"Why don't you – ah, if you want to dry your clothes, I'm sure you can fit into a set of my tunics unless you want to walk dripping through the corridors to your own quarters. I mean, I like the wet tunic look on you, but it must be uncomfortable."

Siri all but sighed. Obi-Wan might be male, but unfortunately, even more than a man, he was a gentleman. Gentlemen were far too considerate. He was on the right track, but totally oblivious to the possibilities. It had been the perfect opportunity to suggest she just slip out of the wet clothes – Force, they'd have been off, and his, too, more than likely right after the, "Why don't you…."

Well, if one wanted something done, one just had to take the initiative.

"Mmm, or more interesting, we could, ah, shed them entirely," Siri ventured. Regardless of the way they had skirted the subject earlier, it was on her mind if not his, and the way he had reacted then; heck, the way his eyes lingered on her wet form now, well, he was interested. Hesitant, unsure, but definitely still interested. He only cocked an eyebrow at her, pretending to misunderstand.

"We?" He cleared his throat, glanced at her, then away. "I'm not soaked like you – drat!"

Water dripped down his face and puddled on the floor at his feet. Unnoticed, a now empty bowl clattered to the floor as Siri's breath caught in her throat. Gods - the thin, informal, and now somewhat sodden tunic more than rather satisfactorily revealed some of the underlying musculature.

Were he frozen in carbonite he would make an exquisite statue: noble, beautiful, and forever unattainable. The latter condition definitely ruled that option out; she wanted his arms around her as his lips demanded her kisses; she wanted to feel warm, pliant flesh against her, not cold and unyielding.

By the Force, she wasn't going to let this moment slip by, not this time. It was now – now or never; perhaps he knew it, too, looking up at her in surprise after an instinctive and ineffectual attempt to brush himself dry. The poor man - he looked like he wished desperately to back away from her as much as he wished to take her up on her offer – caught off guard and torn between two equally compelling instincts.

Siri pinned him physically against the counter, literally giving him no room to avoid dealing with the issue.

"Obi-Wan." She captured his hand and kissed it, a delicate kiss on the palm, another on the inside of his wrist. She could see the pulse in the side of his throat; his heart was speeding up, though he showed no other reaction other than slightly heightened breathing as if trying to clamp down on any external reaction.

_He isn't going to make this easy for me, is he? You must admit your approach is anything but romantic – more like a battlecruiser on hormones. Reason him into this._

"The Code forbids attachment, but neither the Code nor the Order mandates celibacy, only encourages it. As padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, we both know you weren't taught to embrace celibacy as a path to the Force. You've chosen it, Kenobi, unless you indulge away from the Temple."

A small smile teased at her lips, remembering full well long ago words on the pursuit of mere pleasure as a selfish indulgence, self-gratification inappropriate to a dedicated servant of the Force. He would have had opportunities aplenty, temptation almost certain, for few Jedi were immune to the mystique that attracted partners desirous of bedding a Jedi, of one night's gratification and a lifetime of stories. Few succeeded, but not all failed.

Even knowing that, even remembering that one memorable – and one rather frustrating for Obi-Wan – shared mission they had shared reminiscences of the other night, she was somehow pleased when he merely shook his head and continued to look steadily at her. Listening, not arguing with her; not pulling his hand away either.

This was an issue of doubt, she decided – self-doubt, of his ability to remain true to his vows to the Force, to remain faithful to his duty to others above self. Siri took a deep breath and continued.

"That leaves the attachment issue, and quite frankly, if we take the next step, have we truly altered what's already between us?" His eyes flickered; he was clearly considering the merit of her words. "I would not love you more whether I walk out that door or walk into your arms; can you say different?"

Something indefinable seemed to relax within Obi-Wan; as if her words connected his concerns about the potential consequences of behavior into something he could measure against existing feelings and wishes, a contextual bridge he had been seeking without success. Obi-Wan had never needed to reconcile his human self against his Jedi self, not in many long years; what had long been in harmony had been torn asunder by _that woman _and the pieces no longer fit so smoothly.

That was the tragedy of Rattatak, yet the triumph was still to come. Somehow, she knew that, knew the Force knew it as well. It was time for Obi-Wan to know it, as well.

"The only thing that matters is what you want and think is right. Only you. The Force does not object; Yoda and Adi both say our love transcends attachment. We've loved each other for years, yet we have always remained good Jedi. You wouldn't be on the Council if you weren't. We can love each other without forsaking our duty and our vows to follow the Force above all else."

Obi-Wan continued to look steadily at her, but he seemed to be retreating into the warm embrace of the Force. Seeking its guidance, perhaps, rather than retreating from her. She hoped. If he turned away from her now, she would never bring this up again. It would only be awkward for a few minutes, until one of them broke the tension with some humor – they knew each other too well and loved each other far too much for this to come between them.

Her ears caught the faintest hitch in his breathing, her eyes the slight twitching of his fingers as he let her speak. Needing to know that whatever answer he found in the Force, it was to the right question?

Force, why didn't he say something? Anything? Frown? Smile?

Did he not hear the Force clearly – did doubt and desire cloud his less than pure connection, even now? The Force spoke; he listened but was it possible he did not hear?

She would just have to persuade him that this was truly no tease on her part, but serious; a desire weighed and measured and not made in the heat of some – admittedly damp – moment, but one acknowledged and accepted by the Force.

"You've already admitted you thought of us being together as a way to keep your sanity during that horrible experience. Make that dream a reality. It – it won't be my first time, you already pretty much know that. There have been a few men who have shared my bed and each time I – I closed my eyes and pretended… it was you. Something was lacking each time, because it wasn't you, because I didn't want -," he sucked in his breath and gently caught her hand as she bit her lip, silent because he knew somehow she needed to speak her heart, "I didn't want to do what I was - doing – without you. I was in the wrong arms. Let it be really you this time, let reality and dreams be the same."

Those encounters had all been years ago, and in truth, not willingly engaged in, even that first time when she had initiated it. She had never really quite admitted the truth, even to herself, until now.

Each encounter had been her choice on some level, but a choice made for all the wrong reasons.

Going deep undercover and infiltrating Krayn's ring of slavers had required that Siri engage in all sorts of behaviors a Jedi would find abhorrent. She _knew_ that. She would have to lie and steal, tear families apart and condemn the innocent to a life of pain and degradation. She had known with little doubt that she would endure the same in establishing herself.

She had had no wish to compromise her morals or her body but she had also known she would compromise anything but her soul for the goal of ending piracy and slavery, no matter the sacrifice required.

Such actions, if required of her, would be a noble sacrifice, she had thought, beforehand, before reality and the ugliness had broken her illusions, far too late.

Expecting the worst, she had thought to prepare for what she might face, mentally, physically and emotionally in those ways which had then seemed best. That decision also allowed her to satisfy her curiosity about something she had no experience with.

In the naivety of youth, she therefore had chosen to have her first experience with a friend, a fellow Jedi, beforehand, a chance to share physical pleasures when it would be a pleasure, not a possibly violent and /or unwilling activity. Garen had been willing, indeed had half-heartedly teased her with suggestive offers for years, never knowing his best friend had fallen in love with her – or had had to walk away from her years before.

"_Are you sure?" He had asked her just the one question, not why now? Not why me? Just- are you sure you want to do this?_

_Her heart cried no; her lips said yes and she buried her regrets and gave herself to the experience as her hands traced bare skin, warm skin, skin that was not his, accepted kisses from lips that were not his lips, all too aware of his maleness as she had once thought to know another padawan's long ago and been denied._

_Physically satisfying, yes; emotionally it had left some need unsatisfied because it hadn't been with the one it should have been. _

It _had_ prepared her for the unwelcome encounters she'd found nearly impossible to endure undercover, unable to use the Force to protect herself for fear of giving herself away.

Each time, however, inside her soul had cried and her mind had recoiled; the sacrifices she had made in hopes of saving countless others had torn the naivety of a young woman to shreds.

She had learned much in Garen's arms, long ago: passion of the body and the hollowness once passion had been spent.

What was missing was _love_ – a total sharing of the self – and for two Jedi, that could be almost a merging of souls, not just bodies – the total union of two beings, connected with each other and within the Force as well. What had been missing was the man she loved: Obi-Wan**. **

Had he known, then? Was that an issue for him?

"Does that bother you, that I've known other men?"

His free hand raised to gently brush her cheek; he rubbed his thumb under her eye and she leant her cheek into his palm as his hand opened to cup her face. Such a gentle and loving touch; it was all she really wanted from Obi-Wan, gentle and loving touches from a gentle and loving man. No matter how much more she wanted, this would be enough for her, if this was all he could give.

"No. Not if it was something you wanted." Obi-Wan said quietly. The slight hesitation clearly told Siri he wished to reassure her with a carefully considered and truly sincere answer. "You know all I've wanted for you is to be happy and satisfied as a Jedi, and also as a woman, if you so chose. I never expected you to pine over the 'us' that never was."

"You were always in my thoughts, even if you didn't know it." She lightly kissed his palm as he brushed her face and then drew back; a bit shy with this unfamiliar side of herself.

When uncertain, forge ahead with confidence, so with a grin, she poked him in the chest. "Even when they didn't know it, it was always you in my bed, yours the arms around me and yours -."

As if to silence her, he abruptly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. A kiss interrupted what she was about to say, a deeply passionate kiss that sent a shiver down to her very toes. "I get it, Siri." There was no doubt, none at all, at the amusement sparkling in his eyes or the desire; no doubt that he had finally heard the Force. It now seemed almost to be dancing around them as they stood there, the eyes of each searching the other.

"What if I – I don't want to ever hurt you again as I did before," he murmured; a hand lifted to caress her face, hesitated and remained half extended to her, palm up. "What if we can't handle it?"

Was that a plea, to her or to the Force; perhaps a need to openly acknowledge the pain of the past? To examine in the light of hindsight, to speak of what had never been spoken and thus to release it and be forever freed of it?

Or could it be her he doubted – not her love, never her love, but whether her love would remain subservient to her devotion to the Force? He would step back for all time, should he think the Jedi in her to be overwhelmed by a woman's love for a man. He had done so once before, thinking it forever, so many years ago, when he had broken her heart – and his own.

Perhaps one, perhaps the other – even, perhaps, both, but this was after all Obi-Wan Kenobi – a man who shouldered the shadows of the past because in his mind, no one else should have to. A burden named guilt; a confession of past wrongs and a willingness to accept responsibility for wrongs of the future should such prove necessary.

If nothing else, Siri could lift that burden by facing a man who never turned away from the truth once revealed – she would illuminate and name it.

"Oh, love, is that what has been holding you back all this time? You can't hurt me anymore than you'd hurt yourself, but it's different – _we're_ different now. I know you, I love you as a friend; I'll always be your friend. If we find we can't be lovers as well, we will always be friends, and we _will_ _still_ love each other. I don't need you to love me; I don't need to love you either. I just do, just like I breathe, eat and sleep. Like the Force, you're a part of me now, like it or not.

"Oh, love," her hand hovered, indecisive if she should touch him or not, "be your master's padawan, live in the moment and open yourself to the Living Force, let it guide us into the ultimate expression of our love – or separate us."

As if on cue, the Force brightened around them both as if in agreement, soft waves wrapping and entwining the two Jedi in something almost like a caress. If her focus hadn't been on Obi-Wan, Siri would have questioned why it seemed almost eager to see them united, as if nudging along destiny.

Only a ghost knew…that Siri was the key to unlocking Obi-Wan's heart, the key to the Chosen One's salvation or damnation. Upon Obi-Wan's answer, the fate of the galaxy might well rest.


	26. Surrender to the Force

**A couple of quick notes: I appreciate EVERYONE who marks this a favorite or leaves a comment. A couple of you have recently left reviews that have truly touched me and just made my day seem perfect; I owe you a personal response but real life has been crazy lately. **

**Also, I had forgotten to put in a note as I did on the "other forum" that the romance is supposed to have a bit of fairytale aspect to it, grounded in realism. So Obi & Siri tiptoe forward, but they don't have all the "real life talks" - besides, they've known each other all their lives. **

**Anyway, it's time to listen to the Force...and act on its will.**

* * *

**Chapter 26: Surrender to the Force**

_Live in the moment. _Who else but Siri would invoke his master's pet adage in a situation such as this, for such a purpose? _A Jedi cannot be easily seduced against his will_ – but what if his will was yearning towards her?

"Siri." Obi-Wan didn't know what else to say, not sure yet whether he would explore or evade the promise behind her words. A finger caressed her cheek, as soft as the tone in which he had spoken her name, as tender as if her very name was an endearment.

He wanted nothing more than to say yes; wanted nothing more than to do the right thing. He could have Siri in his arms as she had been in his dreams. All he had to do was kiss her for dreams to become reality, or step back for dreams to remain only that.

_Does not the Force whisper to you? _

_It does, but why should it? _A part of his mind was scandalized at the very thought – how dare he justify personal desire with the will of the Force?

_Trust your instincts…trust that the Force would not lead you astray when you hear it clearly, nor that you stray when you follow your own heart's urging. _

While surely there was nothing but his own hopes and desires whispering to him, for a moment, he could almost think there was a presence urging him on, reassuring him that there was no reason to hold back, that the choice was his and blessed by the Force. He had the tacit blessing, even, of two of his fellow Council members. No doubt his old master would so urge him, if it were he actually communicating from the netherworld of the Force.

_A good kick in the backside would propel you right into her arms; I'm tempted, sorely tempted, Padawan. Alas, I cannot. _

If what he heard _was_ his master, he surely must be rolling his eyes right now.

The Force seemed to be humming along quite contentedly, with a nudge or two that was almost physical. Before he could take that step forward, that step towards Siri, he would first say all that he needed to say.

"We cannot formally commit to each other; our commitment is to the Force and the Order," he reminded her, his eyes holding her gaze. If they were seriously considering moving forward they had to be totally honest and open with each other, for there was no room for misunderstandings, no going back.

"We're all a part of the Force, so by committing to it, perhaps, in a way we commit to each other through it," Siri responded, tilting her head back, a slight smile playing round her lips. _She, too, felt the Force singing through her! _"The Force itself has drawn us together, love; we're not very good Jedi if we don't listen. I love you, Obi-Wan – this part of the Force shaped in your form and mind – I want to know you on every level possible, to be one with you in all ways granted two people."

_As do I, as well_, but he could not voice the thought, not yet; held that truth in the depths of his heart – to wonder at it and marvel at its very simplicity.

What Siri offered was a gift beyond imagining; not mere physical intimacy, but the ultimate intimacy between two Force-sensitive beings. Hearts, minds, and souls entwined; every thought, every emotion open to the other – of intimacy without barriers, requiring absolute trust.

Was not that what he most desired, as well? A letting go of self; a merging of selves within the embrace of the Force? Were not their Force presences already dancing in tandem, shields dropping and intimacy of the mind and soul deepening by the second?

As if sensing his thoughts, Siri smiled as she gently touched his face. "I know so much of you already, Obi-Wan, there is very little left for me to get intimately acquainted with."

"Perhaps not quite so little," he quipped, thinking of a certain long ago quip to a very different woman. This woman in front of him wanted nothing but what he willingly gave and he wanted nothing more than to willingly give her all that was his to give.

He bent his head to hers; pressed a gentle kiss against her lips as the Living Force flowed around and through him, its very presence approval and acceptance.

"Oh, love." She kissed him back, pressing into his embrace as his arms came around her. Another kiss left them both breathless and shaking. Siri nestled her head against his shoulder as he rested his head upon hers, both their hearts thudding in unison.

"Kenobi, are you sure – you do know what to do, don't you?"

Obi-Wan grinned at Siri's sudden blush of dismay. He knew her too well, she couldn't help the last; she was too used to teasing him and it just slipped out.

"Minx! I'm sure you'll be only too happy to instruct me in the proper forms," he nibbled at her lips, trailing across her cheek to her earlobe, resisting the sudden near-primal urge to just sweep her in his arms and take her straight to his room as Siri entwined her arms behind his neck and pressed even closer to him. He could no longer tell the beating of her heart from his own.

He nuzzled a spot between her ear and neck, hearing a half-gasp, half-moan of pure pleasure brush past his own ear.

"Oh, I think you'll do quite… quite well on your own, _Master_ Kenobi." Her whisper blew like a caress across his neck, just as her lips did a moment later.

"Wanton woman," he groaned.

Just as she had surrendered to his touches, he surrendered as well. Never one to delay action once he reached a decision, he nuzzled a bearded chin down her neck, down to the enticing curve of neck and shoulder; placed gentle kisses there in between his next words as Siri sighed with each kiss, lips slightly parted.

"As always, you win, Siri. Have you somewhere special in mind? The couch where we fell asleep in each other's arms the other night – though it might be too cramped, if I remember correctly."

He laughed silently, already knowing her response to that.

"Whoa, boy, a little too enthusiastic, you are." Siri poked him in the chest, clearly thrilled with the mischievous tone in his voice. "How about somewhere a bit more conventional – at least, at first?"

"The backseat of a speeder?" he suggested, stifling a reminiscent chuckle. "I recall Anakin being rather enthused about such. I was appalled; he was barely of legal age, that very night I believe. Called me an old prude he did, right before the alcohol he'd consumed dropped him at my feet. Had the cheek to tell me I needed to live more as I all but carried him to bed. I knew right then he'd most likely been a little too drunk to actually _do_ anything, though I'm sure he tried."

If he remembered correctly, Anakin had actually slurred, "You need a woman, Master, it might bring a smile to your face 'stead of that frown."

He'd never seen Anakin so sick before or since. It had been a long night and day of warm compresses and a hand on his padawan's shoulder as he spent the majority of the day on his knees in the refresher.

In return for his caretaking, he had been accused of not being understanding enough. He'd almost let the boy hang over the bowl on his own, then, but he'd risen above his hurt, keeping his mouth shut.

Being a self-contained, reserved man not given to emotional excesses, he had been afraid his moody, hormonal teenager would turn out to be a terror amongst the padawans, but it seemed the boy's hormonal lust was less innate than fueled by alcohol. Anakin was a quick learner when he wished to be, and he had learned not to overindulge after a long day's sickness and misery, not to mention his master's lectures on purging his system of the effects and the need not to dull his senses.

Many months later Anakin had met his childhood crush, Padme Amidala, for the first time since age nine. Ever since, Anakin's attentions had been focused on an unrequited adolescent crush; a young boy's admiration had re-awoken in a man's body.

Unrequited, Obi-Wan at least hoped, for he was sure the fervor of his attraction would draw his padawan into an attachment the young Jedi could not harbor should anything come of it. The master had already had to remind him of his duty in the sky over Geonosis, rather firmly and forcibly – to focus on the mission at hand rather than the woman in his heart.

He wasn't sure if Anakin had grown beyond that stage of attraction, beyond attachment. Even if perchance Padmé returned the boy's affections – which he somewhat suspected she might - she was far too sensible to risk either one of them in any emotional entanglement beyond mere friendship. Even if she was not keeping the boy at arm's length, he trusted Padmé to have done so until Anakin was emotionally mature enough to handle the relationship as both a man and a Jedi, as she would as a Senator and woman.

Culturally and politically, personal relationships, whether formal or not were accepted on an equal footing on most worlds of the galaxy. Some worlds still had a bias towards formal marriage; especially those with cultural and spiritual traditions of inheritance and intricate family relationships.

No, a relationship between the two only concerned Obi-Wan because he doubted Anakin was mature enough yet to handle such emotions as was required of a Jedi.

As the boy's master, it was Obi-Wan's duty to see his padawan kept free of emotional entanglements, of attachments that a Jedi could not indulge, and Padmé well knew the potential for dangerous consequences – she would not risk Anakin's emotional well being, let alone his career. She understood all too well duty and responsibility.

Obi-Wan now, finally, understood in the depths of his heart and his mindwhy he and Siri had not been forbidden to express their hearts. Each valued the other and the Force above self; their love had matured and grown over the years to a non-attached state of connection that needed nothing for itself and thus was untainted by the shadow of greed.

It simply _was_, as the Force itself _was_.

For a Jedi, love was about balance, about growing beyond attachment. One could love, if one loved enough to let go, if one remained committed to the Force before all else. Love could be a tool of the Force, but it could not supplant it; a Jedi could not worship at that altar.

As a padawan in love himself, years ago, he had not known the difference between the flaming passion of newly discovered love and the steady, warming glow of on-going love. Parting then had hurt terribly; if they were to part now, he would always be able to look back on this time with fondness and no regrets.

Bonds of affection and friendship bound them; bonds allowed and bonds born of the Force and fueled not by youthful hormones, but a deep and abiding love for each other.

_That deep and unconditional love, my padawan, Tahl and I never had a chance to discover – we went from friendship to flaming passion but we did not have the time to grow beyond that. The shadow of obsession, of greed caught me as it will catch Anakin… the key to prevent his fall is within you; let Siri unlock it and save you all._

"Should we let him catch us, then? Save that for Anakin's return?"

Siri's wink brought him back from his momentary descent into his thoughts; her humorous comment made him wonder if she was privy to Anakin's youthful indiscretion.

"Force, no," Obi-Wan exclaimed, aghast. Doing a pretty good imitation of Yoda, he croaked, "Discretion, Obi-Wan, discretion you must practice if to her arms you go."

"Oh, Force," Siri nearly giggled. "That's almost as bad as what Dex said. 'It's the lass next to ya' that can warm your bed at night.' It's a conspiracy."

The absurdity of the situation struck them both as they stood there. Once the mirth died away, a momentary silence took over as each waited for the other to make the next move.

Obi-Wan's hand lifted to Siri's hair, brushed a strand behind her ear; finally, he spoke.

"We have no choice, then. We must proceed. We're mature enough to walk away again if we can't handle it. No greed, no fear can interfere." It was his best politician-giving-an-inspiring-speech voice, mellifluous and sonorous, a declamatory proclamation that covered deep emotion.

Siri's voice was suddenly soft and earnest; proof of her utter sincerity. One hand came up to caress his cheek.

"Force be damned if I let you get away from me again. Just one thing, love – we agree we end it with no regrets and friendship intact if we can't handle it. Our friendship is far more important to me, and I don't want to ever lose it."

"We can have each other as long as we can let the other go," he agreed. "It would tear my heart in two to let you go but I wouldn't stop you."

"My heart would go with you should I let you go."

He brushed her cheek with a finger. "I don't want to ever hurt you again like I did before."

"Or I you, but we have to risk being hurt to really live, don't we? If we listen to the Force, it will guard and protect us. As it brought us together before – before that woman tore you away – as it brought us together with a kiss."

The two Jedi gazed at each other – and both smiled at the same time.

All joking, teasing and bantering was put aside. There were no more arguments to be made, no reasons to be considered. He listened to the Force; it told him to listen to his heart – and he heard what it had to say.

"We will let the Force guide us, then," Obi-Wan said softly. His hands came up to clasp Siri's face as his mouth claimed hers, the kiss deepening until he pulled back, almost gasping and faintly flushed.

After catching her own breath, Siri reached up to brush Obi-Wan's lips with a gentle finger. "I'm up to date, so we don't have to worry about little Kenobi's – if you're really certain you're ready to," she grinned coyly, "let me'warm your bed'."

"You know how stubborn I am. No one can talk me into anything I don't want to do."

"Really…who's talking you into anything? I thought I was seducing you." Siri released her grip on Obi-Wan's neck and suddenly realized what a mess she was. She looked down at her wet clothes and shook her head sadly.

"Some seductress, huh?"

"You're not the usual picture of one, not with this," Obi-Wan plucked a piece of food debris from her hair, "tangled in your hair. I must admit that being on Rigelus II looked the part far more."

"That third-gender part-male, part-female, part-unknown?" Siri giggled, remembering. "I heard about that from Adi, who heard some of that story from Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan merely rolled his eyes. He had been horrified at the time, but far worse horrors had occurred since then.

"Qui-Gon thought it might be instructional – you know – educational for me to participate in a cross-cultural experience since our mission had ended."

"I gather you didn't." Siri's eyes danced as Obi-Wan sheepishly relayed the story.

"Force no, once I made it clear to my master just what he had agreed to; it was one of the few times I saw him speechless. I had told him I had a bad feeling about it, but he just brushed me off as usual, thinking it was some perfectly innocent proposal. He grumbled and growled, trying to figure out how to retract his promise or how to make it up to me later if he couldn't."

Imagining Qui-Gon sputtering at a loss for words and Obi-Wan frozen with revulsion while politely trying to fend off a romantic overture, Siri couldn't help laughing. In the end, Obi-Wan ended up chuckling along with her.

"Luckily the Regellian retracted the offer once it realized – courtesy of my master - we were anatomically incompatible; its attraction to me just evaporated. I never appreciated mind tricks as much as I did then, though I never was brave enough to ask Qui-Gon just how he managed that…, well."

He shook his head; then tilted it on one side to flash a sudden grin at Siri. "I have to admit, for a scaly hided humanoid, it was somewhat attractive – no soap and food scraps all over it."

"Force. Let me wash this greasy water off and I'll join you in a few minutes. Don't run away. You are certain about this?

"Yes. I have learned there are no real certainties in life – but this, yes, I'm sure. Just get all of this," he plucked a piece of food from her hair, "off before you join me. I'll be waiting for you after a quick clean up myself." Obi-Wan leaned in and kissed her, then wrapping his fingers around hers he walked with her towards the fresher.

With a saucy wink he headed for his room after gathering a towel and bowl of water, and with a rather cheerful, if rakish, look she couldn't quite identify.

Just what did that silly gundark have in mind?

**

It wasn't the warm water that made her tingly, Siri decided, but anticipation. This was Obi-Wan, the man she loved, who waited for her. No matter how the night went, it would be spent together, in each other's arms, and thus the night could not help but be perfect.

Warm, gentle and loving, this night in warm, gentle, and loving arms would be; with soft kisses caressing her skin – but only if she went to him_._ With a decisive snap, she turned off the water and reached for a towel, patting herself relatively dry.

Should she just wrap the now-wet towel around her – after all, it would be quite quickly discarded once she reached his room.

"You dear, thoughtful man," she murmured, as she stepped out of the shower and saw what awaited her.

Obi-Wan had quietly snuck in and left her a robe, one that had not been there before. It smelled faintly of the scent she associated with Obi-Wan and she smiled as she finger combed her hair. She felt both giddy and uncertain, but the uncertainty was not whether she wanted to take this step, but if the experience would be anything like she had imagined.

No doubt it would be better.

The thoughtfulness of the warm robe was typical Obi-Wan. Both of them were moving into uncharted territory; neither would be fully comfortable at first and he probably expected her to feel a bit shy. He probably was also, despite his apparent capitulation. It might even be that this would turn out not to be the time and Siri was fully prepared to retreat if she thought it right.

Wrapping the robe around her and tying it loosely, she took a breath and stepped out of the 'fresher and padded barefoot to Obi-Wan's room. She hesitated, a hand on the door. Did Obi-Wan have the same butterflies?

Lifting her chin up, Siri pushed the door open and stepped forward into a shift in their relationship.

Obi-Wan was waiting for her, covers demurely up to his chin as he grinned at her. "Join me, Knight Tachi?" If he was feeling discomfited, he was hiding it well. On the other hand, once Obi-Wan Kenobi made a decision, he didn't second-guess it but proceeded boldly ahead. The look in his eyes – he was all but daring her to make the next move.

Fine. She could step up to a dare as well as he. She padded over to his bed and grinned down at him. "Ready, Kenobi?"

Her hands clutched the coverlet as he looked calmly back at her. She suddenly realized that he had something planned and Siri's eyes narrowed. What trick was he trying to pull on her? Winning the fight for the covers, she pulled it back and froze as one hand crept over her mouth. Now this was – so not Obi-Wan Kenobi. She couldn't restrain a giggle.

Obi-Wan sat up and pulled her down to sit beside him, then looked where she was looking and shrugged. "You don't like them?"

"Kenobi – I never expected - that."

"Why not?" He looked wounded. His sleep pants were adorned with gundarks in all sorts of garish and unreal colors. His face was suddenly unreadable. "They were a gift from Anakin years ago. Said I shouldn't care how wild they were because no one would ever see me wearing these."

"You're right about that, Kenobi," Siri agreed. "The sooner we get those off you, the better." Despite herself, she giggled again and reached forward. "They have got to go."

"What do I tell Anakin?" he countered, his hands meeting hers.

"Nothing," she said smugly, since by now that was what he was wearing. Soon she was similarly attired, as Obi-Wan took a hold of the robe and slipped it off her shoulders, his fingers tingling against warm and still damp skin, but his eyes continued to meet hers, crinkling in that half smile she knew so well.

She knew with a quiet certainty that this was more, far more, than just physical attraction.

Obi-Wan truly loved her – the Siri she displayed and the one she kept hidden, just as she loved him the same. They already knew each other intimately in all ways but one, and his eyes showed his knowledge of the same. Still, she had to ask one more time.

"Are you sure? I mean – after all these years – after feeling we couldn't give in to our feelings?" Neither of them touched the other, but their eyes spoke volumes and the air seemed charged.

"I'm sure." He leaned forward to kiss her as her arms came around him and brought him down with her.

"All that I am, all that I have to give, I give to you," he whispered.

"As I to you," she murmured, just before their lips met.


	27. Not So Welcome an Interruption

**Chapter 27. Not So Welcome an Interruption**

"Mmmph…." Obi-Wan startled half-awake, dimly aware of something – some noise. A hand came up, rather slowly, and scrubbed his chin as if that would crank his eyes open; it wakened him enough to register the noise was the chirping of his comlink.

"Comin'," he mumbled. Something sleepily reached for him as he slid out of bed without thought. _**What!**__ Oh, yes_, _Siri_ - a sloppy grin crossed his face; he was not alone and it was within her arms he had been sleeping. Obi-Wan bent over and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead to quiet her before slipping into sleep pants and robe and moving into the darkened common room.

Stifling a yawn, he went to the small comm console rather than use his comlink.

He was instantly awake when he saw the signal's source. Glancing down to make sure his robe covered the gundark-decorated sleep pants he had hastily donned, he hit the _receive_ button.

"Padawan, it's been a while since you've reported. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sorry to wake you, Master. I've accomplished part of my mission, though I haven't caught up with Ventress yet."

Obi-Wan rubbed his face and nodded slowly, wondering why his stomach suddenly felt so queasy. Had it anything to do with Anakin's grim expression, or was it solely his own reaction to Anakin's speaking her name so suddenly?

"What part of your mission is accomplished, then? I thought capturing Ventress was the mission."

Anakin hesitated, and Obi-Wan's stomach did another flip-flop – the young man didn't want to meet his eyes. _Something's wrong!_ Before he could ask another time – are you sure you are okay – Anakin looked directly at him, wet his lips, and took a deep breath. _Oh, this was bad_ – Anakin was either upset – or thought his news would upset Obi-Wan.

"Out with it, Padawan," he said quietly. "You're troubled."

He thought at first Anakin would deny it: his eyes suddenly seemed to evade his master's gaze and his lips tightened. When he spoke, the words spilled from him as if breaching a dam built of hesitation.

"Master, I caught up to – to that brute, Aidus, first. I found him, but not Ventress, on - on Rattatak where you and Alpha – oh, Master, where you suffered such…such terrible pain." He dropped his eyes, and Obi-Wan knew as sharply as if he'd received a vibroblade to his gut that his padawan must be suffering a sort of physic shock from Rattatak's ghosts. Anakin swallowed; then added in rather a rush, "He's dead now and he'll never hurt you again. We fought and – well, he put up quite a fight. I – I had to kill him."

_I had to kill him_. The tone was grim, but satisfaction underlay the words. It didn't feel right, but despite Obi-Wan's disquiet, another emotion was bubbling up, bound with pain.

_Aidus. Oh, Force, Aidus_. _Aidus and Ventress_.

Obi-Wan all but dropped into a seat and passed a hand over his chin. _Aidus_. His brow furrowed. A mere brute, happiest when he could brutalize something weaker than himself. He could have cared less if Obi-Wan had information he could pry out of him; no, his joy was the infliction of pain, plain and simple.

Obi-Wan hadn't hated him, but he hadn't pitied him either. He had encountered far too many beings like Aidus, even if he had never before been the one on the receiving end of such malice.

"I… understand." It was coming back to him, his screams echoing in that cell, never-ending, ceaseless pain, totally at the mercy of those who had none. The sodden thump of a beefy fist into already abused flesh, the retching of what little nutrients he was allowed as his insides twisted and roiled….and in the background, always, the sound of grunting laughter. He thought he had released all the memories. He was wrong.

He shook his head, shooing the memories away with a deep breath even though the knifing cramps of that time twisted through him still.

"Master! Are you okay?"

Anakin was picking up his distress; Obi-Wan could see him take an unconscious step forward, to try to comfort him; somehow that froze the memories within him just as he was banishing them.

_Pain…so much pain_, _screams and even more screams…until there were no more screams left within him…_.

His throat tightened and his hands tightened into a fist; he consciously forced his fingers to relax.

"I - see," he repeated softly, numbly. "Anakin - be safe. Stay safe. Kenobi out." He almost crushed the _end call_ button beneath his hand as he buried his face in his hands, shaking as he tried to release the flood of returning memory – and fear realized: his padawan knew far too much of what he had so desperately wished unrevealed; those scars on his soul ripped open once more by the knowledge that they had been etched in Anakin's soul now, as well.

Someone – Siri – sat down beside him. "What is it, Obi-Wan? Talk to me." He reached out a hand and she took it, gently rubbing it between hers as he focused inwards.

"Flashback…I was back in that cell, knowing I was dying a slow and far too painful – death…," he breathed. _Let it go, Kenobi, let it go…. "_Anakin – Anakin was forced into a fight with – with Aidus and killed him. I'll be fine in a moment." Surprising them both with his request, he added, "Hold me, Siri."

"I'll do anything for you; you know that, Obi-Wan. Even hold you." Siri wrapped her arms around him as with an incredible effort, he forced himself to look at her, see that he was safe and back in his own quarters – and with several more deep breaths released the panic and pain as she wrapped the warm comfort of the Force around them both.

It didn't take long; each flashback was a bit less painful, a little easier to release into the Force. Most of the time now they only caused a hitch in his breath, a blink of his eye or a few minutes of meditation to clear his mind, but this had taken him totally by surprise.

This was a far more severe reaction than he'd had in some time, and it scared him.

He knew it would take a minute or two before his heart stopped thumping so badly. He was grateful that Siri was there, her fingers brushing the dampness from his eyes, saying nothing, just – holding him.

Holding him, as had those ghost arms when he was truly in that cell, only these arms were flesh and blood. Not the embrace of a long dead and beloved mentor, born of need and born from memory, but the embrace of a living, breathing being – the woman he loved and the woman who loved him in return.

He rested with his head resting on hers as he sought the Force and released the last of the panic, helped by the love and concern of the woman within whose arms he now rested. The merging of the two in the Force had temporarily combined their Force energies as well, and he knew the connection had completed his midichlorians recovery – and how he was going to explain _that_ to the healers, he had no idea.

"I'm okay, now, thanks, Siri." He patted her arm as he released her and she, in turn, him. "I guess you can see the so-called legendary Kenobi control is just that – legendary." He found a smile within him.

"I'd say so, I'd be a screaming wreck," Siri retorted. "With our new bond I could sense a lot of that; you're doing remarkably well, in my opinion. For a Jedi, if not for Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi's tastes, but he was always rather hard on that Kenobi. Harder than on others, I'd say."

"Why is it so hard?" he asked plaintively, running his hands through his hair, to sit pensively with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. "All I need to do is release everything into the Force – I know that, doing that is almost instinctive for me by now."

"Obi-Wan, that woman had you and tortured you for a longer period of time than you've been back and recovering. Also, because this Jedi I know has got some idea in his head that being a Jedi supercedes being human, that's why. It's a wonder he ever allowed me into his bed and his arms – and it was well worth the wait, if one must know. There really is a man underneath the Jedi exterior, even if that Jedi hates to admit it."

"Well," he laughed, faintly flushing. "It's a bit uncomfortable sleeping in full Jedi garb, boots and all, I'll admit. One has to put it all aside sometime."

"Yeah…even more so if its sleep pants decorated with gundarks." Siri winked. Her relief was obvious when Obi-Wan broke into a deep laugh. Shaking his head, he stood and pulled Siri to her feet, gentle fingers caressing her cheeks as he soundly kissed her.

"I think it's time to go back to bed and get some sleep."

"I agree - you, me – but no gundarks. I saw what they did to you that time – I'm not sharing your bed with them, too," Siri teased.

Obi-Wan would have been dead, torn limb from limb that time if not for Anakin; he had been clawed viciously on his back and his leg muscle torn after a concussive blast had knocked him into a nest of them, landing hard and a bit stunned from the long fall. The Jedi was probably the only known survivor of a gundark attack, and that mainly due to the intervention of his uninjured padawan.

"Fine with me." He grinned, though a touch of red stained his cheeks as he pulled the offending sleep pants off and dropped them on the floor.

"No gundarks for you, as well. No reason you should be clothed," the Jedi's nimble fingers helped her remove the matching top she had hastily pulled on; he whispered a soft kiss across the tender skin of her neck and lower as he continued, laughing softly in his throat when he noted where her eyes were, "when I'm not."

*

He glanced at the couch they had shared some nights before and grinned, a possible invitation or perhaps challenge that Siri chose to ignore. It wasn't easy, though; not with him right there in all his full glory.

"Back to bed for you, my Jedi. Maybe I'll tell you a story about a brave padawan and a handsome one until that handsome one falls asleep." She took his hand in hers and kissed it. _Thank the_ _Force he's no longer trembling; he recovered from that well._

Indeed, a remnant of weariness hung around him. Siri raised a hand to touch his cheek, caressed it gently as he leaned into it.

He wrapped an arm around her as they returned to bed. His hand stroked her face as he smiled into her eyes and dropped a light kiss against her cheek. Siri reached to cover the hand brushing her hair back and smiled back, shaking her head at what might have been an unspoken question.

Was it, or was it mere wishful thinking on her part? Maybe it was just Obi-Wan's way of saying goodnight, sleep well. All of this was new, to them both. There was still much to learn about each other; little things like how one said good night or how one said good morning.

Force, she hoped he didn't wake all cheerful and bright-eyed, nor grumpy and stumbling for his first cup of caf.

Perhaps he would wake first; then wake her with a kiss, a gentle brush of his lips. Still half-asleep, her arms would come around his neck. That would be a lovely way to wake – to waken in his arms.

They had a lifetime of discoveries ahead of them, the Force willing. The pleasure in that thought brought a soft smile to her face as she slipped under the covers.

"You need your rest, Kenobi. There'll be more nights." She leaned over him as he settled in and gave him a gentle kiss laced with a sleep suggestion before snuggling down next to him. His hand reached for hers as his eyes drifted shut and he relaxed into sleep.

"Sweet dreams, love," she whispered, entwining her fingers with his.


	28. Truths of the Heart Revealed

**Chapter 28. Truths of the Heart Revealed**

Morning light angled in, a long pattern of light stretching from the holo-window half across the room indicating the early hour. This light was only an illusion of a programmed cycle of gradually increasing light intensity mimicking the dawn; it was not the actual giving way of night's darkness to morning's half-light but it had the same effect.

It was a different program than Siri used; she was used to waking to music or birds chirping, varying her sound programs rather than light patterns.

_How strange_. Grumbling under her breath – she hated mornings – she blinked once she opened still-sleepy eyes and realized she wasn't in her own quarters, or even alone in bed. _Oh, yes!_ A soft smile parted her lips as she realized whose quarters – whose bed – she was in; who still slept beside her. She stretched, careful not to wake him.

Had she not once dreamed of just this – of waking up beside a loved one – beside Obi-Wan? This was what she had truly sought, the quiet contentment of just being near the one she loved.

The night's intimacies had left an afterglow of contentment that had been as great a source of joy as the intimacy itself. Lying in each other's arms in the aftermath and just listening to the other's heartbeat was an experience Siri would forever cherish, regardless of what the future brought.

It had been one dream that she had thought never could be.

It was no dream.

She was really snuggled against Obi-Wan and warmed by his presence at her side. He lay half-turned away from her; she raised her head to see his face, and smiled. He looked so peaceful, free of worries, a half smile of contentment on his lips.

Siri turned on her side so she could wiggle against him. Once in place she wrapped her arms around him and leant her head against a bare shoulder as the fingers of one hand drifted through the scattering of fine hair on his chest, pressing soft kisses into his neck and shoulder.

"Mmmph," Obi-Wan mumbled. He shifted, felt something soft and warm pressed against him; he startled awake.

"Morning sleepyhead," Siri cooed, knowing that would likely bring Obi-Wan fully awake; if it didn't the hand would just have to drift lower. Somewhat to her disappointment, the words had the desired effect.

He blinked. "Did you just – sound all girly on me? Morning, Siri." Obi-Wan turned onto his back and his arm came around her as Siri curled in against him. He sighed happily. "Oh, this is nice; I like waking up with you next to me. Wouldn't it be great if we could do this every day? Maybe if I persuade the Council to knight Anakin, so he would move out?"

He trailed soft kisses along her neck as he spoke until he reached her lips, and for a moment, neither was free to speak.

"Wouldn't work. We have to be discreet and that means neither of us can be seen coming out of the other's quarters every morning."

"How often can we get away with it, then?" Though he sounded perfectly serious, she knew he was joking.

"Not even once, Kenobi. Resign yourself to that."

"I guess." A heavy sigh made Siri giggle again, for it had been such a dramatic sigh that it overshadowed what would otherwise have been her sighs of happiness as Obi-Wan's fingers combed through her hair.

Pressing her face against his chest, a hand tracing the lines of his face, her next words came out rather muffled.

"It didn't seem like our first time, did it, love? I dreamed of being in your arms more than once, you know, though we never quite managed to actually consummate our love – maybe it was the Force's way of either frustrating me – or promising the actuality would be so much more if I would just hold onto the thought of you."

"It wouldn't surprise me - I kept myself alive and sane with many dreams of you," Obi-Wan admitted with a soft laugh, rubbing his bearded chin against her nose, something she found strangely endearing. "I tried desperately hard to find something good to hold onto, so I held onto you."

Giggles turned to tears she blinked away as Obi-Wan planted a kiss on the top of her head as his arms looped under her arms and he rubbed her back. She wondered which of them was truly most blessed – surely it had to be her, for she was twice blessed: being the woman he loved, it was her and his love for her that had given him something to cling to when he had been most in need – and by now having him back in her life and in her arms.

A soft whisper brushed across one ear. "Last night was very special; making love to you was more than I ever dreamed it could be."

"For me, too. You know one of the best parts - no waking up to find the spot next to me cold and empty, the kiss from someone who wasn't there – what?" Obi-Wan had shut his eyes, as if trying to recall a memory, his hand unconsciously reaching out as if seeking a thought, a memory. When he opened his eyes, the look in them scared her for a minute until she realized it was his look of utter concentration.

"We kissed; we kissed in the Force," he said in utter certainty, his eyes shining at her. "Siri, that's the key."

"Key – to what?" Not that she cared, but whatever it was, Obi-Wan was pleased – more than pleased. It was like a long lost piece of a puzzle was slotting into place, a puzzle that was Obi-Wan's attempts to re-assemble himself into a healthy and whole man.

"The mask." He was utterly serious, but for the first time that Siri could remember, the mention of the mask hadn't even shaken his composure. "That mask had just about consumed me with darkness and I was down to my last chance to defeat it. I couldn't fight, not any longer, so I chose to fight by accepting the darkness. I accepted it and I – I don't remember."

He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes in frustration. "I need to remember how I defeated it, Siri, and somehow I just know a kiss was involved."

"Oh, Obi-Wan, is it important how? Isn't it enough to have defeated it?"

"No, I need to know. Once I know, I think I can finally leave it all behind."

*

Light. He remembered closing his eyes. He now reached for Siri's hands and felt her strength flow to him, an anchor to the _here and now_ where he was safe, so he could return to _there_, where he had been so nearly lost.

Light. An inferno and a glow, both beckoning. Faces…of those he cared for.

_I love you, Siri. Know that, should I die here, I die so that I may live in the Force forever._

_*_

Siri's heart remembered hearing those words once before as Obi-Wan softly recited them, reliving a memory that was hers - so how could it be his?

…_know I love you. I let you go, even though I love you, for you are not mine to hold onto, only to hold. Come home, _she recited in turn.

His eyes snapped to hers as if remembering hearing her words before this moment.

*

_I give my life to you _– and he had reached into the flame. It flared hungrily and licked up his fingers, his hand, his arm until his entire being was bathed in light, a fire without heat and a fire that did not burn - a fire that illuminated rather than destroyed.

_I choose love_.

*

"I choose love." He looked at Siri, and she saw the sparkle in them, knowledge and excitement like a flare in the Force. "I chose to love even if meant my death. I chose love over hate - and the Light banished the Darkness."

_Obi-Wan was cradling her face in gentle hands as she smiled at him and met his lips with her own_…and the moment that never was, became _this_ moment. A tear slipped from her eye as she saw the memory from his perspective just as from her own; their minds reaching to share this moment.

_She brushed a sudden tear away from her eyes…._

… a tear moistened Obi-Wan's lips as if from a face bent to his, a single tear that had fallen as if from another's heart…

…his heart smiled and his heart gave it back…a promise that both hearts would heal…

"We kissed – we were at opposite ends of the galaxy but we kissed. Your lips were dry and cracked; your hair long and dirty; it was you, at that moment, it was you – really you."

Obi-Wan was cradling her face in gentle hands as she smiled at him and met his lips with her own…and they slowly drew back and looked at each other, for that moment that never was, was _this_ moment, the kiss still tingling on two pairs of lips.

"You saved me, Siri, saved me from that mask," Obi-Wan said with certainty, his lips now brushing against hers as he spoke. "We kissed and I felt surrounded by love. Love kept the light from dying, Siri, your kiss banished the darkness. _You_ saved me."

Obi-Wan was crediting her with saving him from the darkness – after all he had undergone, the valiant fight he had fought – he credited her with his victory, as if he had no role in his success at all. How like the man, how like his generous heart.

"Perhaps, only in that I was the one you loved, Obi-Wan. Your heart saved you, because the dark was not as strong as your heart. Your heart is what I love about you, that heart you so carefully guard yet so easily gave into my keeping."

For a few minutes they just lay quietly, arms around each other, until Obi-Wan suddenly spoke into her ear, a hint of a laugh in his tone.

"So do I tell the Council that the way to defeat a Sith torture mask – to beat the darkness – is to love?"

"I wonder if Yoda suspected that," Siri said, propping herself up on one elbow and gazing thoughtfully at Obi-Wan. "Did you know that he told me I was to fight with all the love in my heart to help you heal when you returned? I think he expected us to become lovers – you don't think he had a vision, do you? Force, I hope he didn't see us actually making love."

Despite her words, her eyes were merrily dancing as Obi-Wan looked stricken.

"I don't think the Force would do that to us," Obi-Wan chuckled weakly, clearly hoping he was right. "Facing Council might be interesting, if so. Master Yoda can be quite a tease, when he wants to be. At least I have a few hours before I have to worry about that."

He stretched lazily, and though he was still too thin to her thinking, rebuilding muscle rippled quite nicely under Siri's eyes. She eyed him longingly, but the reminder of the time also reminded her of her day's duties.

"You don't expect Anakin back tonight, do you? Good, well you sir, just stay here for a while and have happy thoughts. I need to get ready; some of us have duties to attend to."

"Can't we just snuggle for a while like this?" Obi-Wan's hands teased over her back.

"No, Kenobi, no attachments – you must learn to let me go." She continued to lie where she was, listening to the slow thump of his heart under an ear.

"You're not going."

Now he sounded amused. Siri glared at him and snapped, "I don't want to."

"So who's attached? Get moving girl," Obi-Wan nudged her to the edge of the bed.

"Go, or I'll push you onto the floor."

"You'll come with me," Siri warned, raising her hands in warning, only to squawk as she lost her balance and tumbled onto the floor. A minute later Obi-Wan's face came over the side and he peered down at her with curiosity. Laughing, he raised his hands in prepared protest: "I didn't."

"No, you didn't, but you'll take the fall anyway." She grabbed a hand and yanked. A surprised Obi-Wan landed on top of her. Taking advantage of their proximity, he kissed her before getting to his feet and giving her a hand up.

"You're almost as beautiful on the outside as on the inside," he said softly, gazing at her.

Siri took that as the compliment it was meant, especially considering where his eyes were locked – on hers. "Aw, don't go all mushy on me, Kenobi. You're a pretty fine figure of a man, yourself – though it's the inner beauty that's your main attraction – but I'll deny ever saying that if you repeat it."

*

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to, now could I?" He decided to be totally honest with her, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching as Siri got dressed. "This whole thing about being discreet comes uncomfortably close to sneaking around and I don't like the idea of doing that. It seems – well, almost dishonest."

Siri paused in fastening her belt and came to sit next to Obi-Wan. "I thought we resolved that. We can talk about it later, but if you're uncomfortable with it, we can back off. Do you have a problem with Anakin seeing someone and keeping it quiet?"

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan was suddenly forced to confront what he feared deep in his heart. "I'm sure he's not…" _I hope he's not_….

From the look in her eye, Siri did not doubt for one instance that there was a woman – and she thought it was a casual affair, one within bounds. Obi-Wan began to relax just a bit. Women often seemed to know more about these things than men, he'd found.

Siri narrowed her eyes and studied Obi-Wan. "I believe so, and so do you, deep inside, I think. You have your suspicions, right, but say nothing because he's of age, it's casual and there's no attachment?"

Force, Obi-Wan hoped so. Anakin's heart belonged to Padmé, always had, but perhaps his padawan had found unattached diversion elsewhere. Siri had to be right; he was worrying for nothing. As an adult, Anakin was free to indulge in responsible physical relationships as he saw fit. As long as it didn't interfere with his duty, his master had no right to interfere.

Not to mention being a hypocrite if he brought it up now, after last night. Obi-Wan hated hypocrisy as much as dishonesty.

"Obi-Wan, discretion means just that." Siri shook a finger at him. "We keep our love life private and it's nobody's business unless and until we fail to behave as Jedi by putting our own needs ahead of duty and the Force, right?"

After a moment's consideration, he nodded.

With a blown kiss, Siri headed for the doorway with a, "Later, lover boy."

There was no doubt about where her eyes lingered, or the saucy wink she left with.

_Boy_? He looked down, shook his head and protested, "Boy?"

An amused chuckle floated back at him. "Obi-Wan, I _told_ you she was wrong!"


	29. To Every Action A Reaction

**Chapter 29. To Every Action – a Reaction**

_Sith's hells!_ The expletive exploded suddenly within the fighter's cockpit, even as a hand slammed into the control panel just after entering hyperspace. A squawk of protest from Artoo was brushed off with a muttered apology, although the astromech's dome remained swiveled towards the pilot.

The young Jedi grimaced.

He had thought he was at peace with his actions, especially after the Chancellor's prior words of reassurance. He _was_ at peace – until thoughts of his master intruded; that was when that peace fled – shattered and shredded like the lines of time and space around him, his usual awe at the beauty absent because the rainbow of lights reminded him of Obi-Wan and his master's long ago revealed wonder and delight in that same sight.

Thoughts of his master made him _think_.

Anakin didn't want to think, for to think meant to feel, and he would rather do neither at the moment. His hands knotted as if the action, small as it was, could wipe the images and sounds into the vast emptiness that surrounded him.

_I have only done as any Jedi would – I have protected the innocent who would suffer at his hands as you, my master, have suffered already. I have blotted out his evil by _my_ hands. _

The psychic shock from Rattatak's dead ghosts had been staved off by rage and purpose, now satisfied; it was now slowly insinuating into his heart and mind, within every aspect of his senses. Pictures formed and reformed within his mind's eyes, coalescing into blood and tears; screams and despair shrieked and clawed in his ears, yet superimposed over the horror was always the face of one man.

His master.

That image was what kept the demons at bay yet, strangely enough, it was what woke the doubts that had once been laid to rest.

It had had another effect as well; the sight of Obi-Wan's frozen face when he had made his report had almost persuaded Anakin to temporarily abandon his quest.

It had also helped to persuade him that what he had done was not so evil, not if the very mention of Aidus had prompted the distress so briefly visible. Some evil just could not be allowed to stand; some evil deserved to be stamped out and some evil deserved retribution.

It was justice to his master and justice for his master.

He had clearly woken his master up after too little sleep, or perhaps after a poor sleep. The few times he had needed to comm his master in the dead of night, Obi-Wan had never appeared that disheveled. The Jedi master had an uncanny ability to appear neat and unruffled at nearly all times, an ability that Anakin only occasionally envied.

This last time had been different.

His hair had been mussed and his face flushed, but it had been the response to his report that stayed in Anakin's mind. His master's reaction had been that of a man kicked in the gut – instinctive - an innate human reflex that could not be automatically overridden, even by all the self-control a Jedi could muster.

There had been no way for Anakin to soften the blow had he even thought to do so, for

he had not thought his news would so rattle his master. He had expected – relief. Satisfaction, perhaps. Pleasure, a possibility, even if unlikely and only fleeting.

Not stunned silence; a fight to control his breathing or to stifle a cry of memory.

_Oh, Master_….

**

Obi-Wan strode into the Council room a few minutes earlier than normal. Yoda and Mace were standing at one of the windows, overlooking the traffic. Together they turned and acknowledged his presence.

"Content you look today, slept well last night did you?" Mace grinned and looked Obi-Wan up and down.

So much for discretion, Obi-Wan thought with a sigh, wondering how Mace knew. He didn't seem shocked or displeased. "Quite well other than a bit of a nasty flashback when Anakin comm'd in, but it's the first I've had in a while. There's not much to tell; I'll wait for session. Master Windu, how?"

"How what, Master Kenobi?" Mace was all innocence. He sobered right away, and gave Obi-Wan another searching look, and all rare humor was put aside. "I thought you were pretty much past the flashbacks by now – should you be even be back on Temple duty?"

They were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the Council. Mace gave Obi-Wan a look that told him they weren't through discussing the subject, only postponing it.

"Keep session waiting we should not," Yoda said severely, nodding to Mace, his own manner betraying no hidden amusement only quiet speculation.

Such considerations were soon put aside in the mundane business of the Council. They spent several hours going over battlefield reports, pending Senate bills and other items of similar nature.

After a short recess, Mace nodded to Obi-Wan to speak.

"I received a report from Anakin last night," Obi-Wan said abruptly. He grinned wryly, recognizing that all eyes were on him showing varying degrees of interest and sympathy, all rather well camouflaged in the Force. "I admit – I was a little unsettled; I guess I haven't totally got past it yet."

"Would it be easier if your padawan reported to another?" Adi asked, leaning forward.

"Thank you, Master Gallia, but no. He is my padawan, as you say, and I am dealing with it rather well, I think, when I'm not surprised – or woken in the middle of a good sleep." Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"I admit I had a somewhat severe flashback, woken up from a sound sleep as I was. He was at Rattatak where Alpha and I – were imprisoned –but Ventress was absent. Aidus was there, however, and Anakin attempted to apprehend him. He resisted. My padawan was forced to kill him in self-defense. Anakin is continuing his search for Ventress."

"Unfortunate that is," Yoda said, his bright eyes studying Obi-Wan. "Easier on you it is, though – in a trial you will not have to testify; details of your ordeal left unrevealed."

Obi-Wan paused in the midst of responding, shut his mouth with a quick snap and shook his head. Carefully, he said, "You may be right, but – I prefer to see justice pronounced by the courts rather than at the end of a lightsaber if at all possible."

Yoda nodded, letting out a little grunt of approval, and Obi-Wan realized Yoda had been testing him, or more likely, proving a point to the rest of the Council.

He wasn't offended in the least; the Council had a duty to be sure that all Jedi – any Jedi – was driven by the proper motivations at all times. Yoda, Mace, even Adi had spoken with him several times since his return, but his dealings with his fellow Council members had been mainly in Council discussing Jedi business, not Master Kenobi's mental recovery.

Almost as if to prove the point, Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up just as he sat back in his seat, legs crossed and now relaxed.

"I believe we have already noted that Master Kenobi has more than proved that his compassion and sense of justice is, if anything, heightened by the terrible ordeal he suffered, rather than diminished as one might suspect."

Those words brought Obi-Wan upright in his seat, surprised, to protest, "What good is justice if applied only to the just? If only injustice is perpetrated upon those who are unjust? Justice needs to be aligned with understanding and mercy, and when merited, the due administration of fair, impartial and legal punishment. This is the way of the Jedi, of law, of the Force."

Of course his colleagues knew that. He stopped short, knowing he had the agreement of all within the room, and slightly embarrassed at stating the obvious.

Adi merely smiled at him. She spoke for the others, clear as each deferred to her and occasionally nodded in agreement.

"Obi-Wan, you are an example to us all. Your Force presence was sullied and chaotic upon your return; the emotional residue lingered long. You fought free of two prisons – the original ordeal and the process of recovery. I am grateful to the Force and to Siri that my padawan was able to help you face and release that horror, to help you regain your footing, and to again demonstrate what a true Jedi is, for only in adversity is one's true nature revealed."

While he appreciated the kind words, he was compelled to point out what seemed rather obvious to him.

"Master Gallia, I am no more and no less than what the Order has raised me to be, my values are those instilled in me by my teachers and by the Force."

There were times when he wondered if he missed some inside joke, perhaps something humorous his words recalled that predated his seat on the Council. Now was such a time for he was at a loss to explain the amused looks of his colleagues, tinged with some other emotion he was at a loss to explain.

Had some misbehaving padawan tried to justify some prank with such words once?

He could easily imagine a younger version of his master justifying some Council-defying stunt or dubious project with such a rationalization.

Adi continued on, outwardly showing none of the inner amusement permeating her Force presence.

"Perhaps, but not all Jedi internalize these precepts to the degree you do, such comes as much from the man you are as the Jedi. Shaped you were, by many, but the essence of who you are, such can't be molded by outside forces alone."

It suddenly struck him: the amusement was at his protests and his utter lack of recognition of the respect they held for him, deserved or not.

Coloring slightly, Obi-Wan acknowledged her words with a bow. He had barely straightened up when Yoda "humphed," making the Jedi think the older master was going to say something to humble him. Too much praise heaped on one tended to prompt just that. Instead, Yoda mentioned only what he had already noted for himself earlier this day.

"Your Force connection seems strong and sure, returned in full has it? Rebuilt do you feel it to be?"

Glad to end the earlier praises, for reasons entirely different from Yoda, Obi-Wan was quick to reply.

"I have no reason to doubt otherwise. The healers advised recently that my midis seemed all but recovered. They weren't sure if my Force connection would just seem to switch on as seems to have happened, or gradually improve. I have another appointment with them later this day. I can have their findings sent directly to the Council if you wish."

"No need for that." The little Jedi dismissed the offer with a wave of a three-clawed hand. "Sense your connection we can, here once more in Council your presence we feel no longer diminished. Stimulated your midis were by your 'sound sleep' perhaps?"

Obi-Wan nearly choked, and he easily sensed Yoda's and Mace's amusement. While he didn't know what had betrayed his night's activities, he was grateful their reaction was amusement, not displeasure.

The session was adjourned shortly afterwards.

As he had been doing ever since his return to the Temple, he remained in the Council chamber as the other Jedi slowly dispersed. The panoramic view this high up was, even now, a welcome change from the long, agonizing weeks chained in a too small, confined space. He relished the feeling of space surrounding him.

He stood looking out of one of the broad windows, his hands clasped behind his back, mind quiet and at ease. A swish of robes announced that someone had come to stand beside him.

"You're deep in thought, Master Kenobi, or are you troubled? Somehow, I feel that your padawan's report disturbed you, and not for the reason you implied."

With a soft sigh, Obi-Wan looked at Adi. "You are quite perceptive. It has, indeed, though I am not sure why. Anakin had every right to defend himself, and based on his full report that came in this morning, he was more than justified. Yet it bothers me."

Adi studied him silently; then offered a few words meant to be reassuring.

"Anakin will be fine. He was trained by Obi-Wan Kenobi." That brought a smile to his face, though he ruefully shook his head.

"Only a part of him; the part of him that is willing to listen to those with more experience. He has never been that dutiful padawan every other initiate becomes.

His abilities and connection to the Force often surpass my own and lead him to paths divergent to that I set before him. Whether ultimately that will be to his detriment or not, we have yet to see. None of us know the path the Chosen One is meant to tread, hence my hesitation in either reining him in or encouraging him. I do admit that there are far too many things I have wished I had done differently with him."

"As Qui-Gon with you, as I with Siri, yet both of you turned out quite well."

"We both had excellent masters," Obi-Wan returned, smiling.

A bow of her head was her acknowledgement of the compliment. "Your master and I both had excellent apprentices. To teach one needs a pupil, to teach well one needs a willing pupil. To be an excellent teacher is to add the additional support of colleagues and friends – something I fear we on the Council failed to give you and your learner in those crucial, early years, much to my regret."

As Obi-Wan opened his mouth, not quite sure how he wished to respond to that, Adi shook her head to silence him. "Our failure was born of ignorance of the special needs you both faced, something it is too late to rectify and almost impossible to make amends for. What is done is done and we must look forward, not back."

"There were times I could have used…guidance," he admitted. "My padawan…." He sighed. Anakin had needed more than Obi-Wan alone could offer, and while Yoda, Mace, even Adi had occasionally offered advice, he had never had the full and uncompromising support of the full Council.

Yet the past could not be remade. As Adi had said, one must look forward and deal with the challenges of the present.

"I am pleased that Siri was able to give you the support you so desperately needed during these last few difficult weeks, as you once gave her the support she needed so badly. The affection and friendship between you both helped Siri heal years ago, just as she helped you with your healing."

"I am more grateful to her than I could possibly express."

Adi inclined her head in recognition. "She is well aware of your gratitude; we just spoke of this again when I saw her last, at mid-meal, in fact; that was when she mentioned your connection had returned in full measure. She also told me she is looking forward to more sparring with you."

"'er, yes?"

"Siri confided in me some time back how you reacted that first time you sparred upon your return; while that fear has lessened she has hesitated to spar with you since. Not only could you have been at a decided disadvantage should you have lost your connection in the midst of a match, but you might well have been gravely injured. I understand you sparred yesterday after your connection returned and you were able to assuage her fears. My padawan told me she is quite pleased with the way you handle your lightsaber and hopes she has the opportunity to spar with you many more times while you are both at the Temple."

This day – mid-meal? Force, he hoped he wasn't blushing. Instinctively he tightened his shields, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Sending such a message via her old master was – was – just wait until he got his hands on her….

With difficulty, he brought himself away from that enticing thought.

Had Adi noticed anything? She was looking a trifle oddly at him. Both Siri and Yoda had said she was accepting of their relationship, should they pursue one, but that didn't mean Adi wanted to know about it, or that they wanted it known, either.

With a little cough he quickly turned the conversation away from this decidedly nuanced and strange turn it had taken.

Keeping to the honorific address used in the chambers, he added, "You depart shortly, Master Gallia, may the Force be with you during your next campaign."

"Thank you, Master Kenobi, may it continue to be with you as well."

This time he was the one to bow.

"Let us hope the Force is strong with us all until we can lift the shroud of darkness and enjoy once again that clarity I remember from my youth." He almost groaned, for the words sounded pompous even to him.

Adi nodded. Turning her attention away from her fellow Jedi, she looked at the sinking sun beyond the Council spire. She spoke softly, though firmly.

"You have long been a steady light, Master Kenobi – that is the strength you bring to the Order. The steady glow will always long outshine the far brighter light that flares to brilliance and then fades – it will always hold back the darkness. Your guidance, your strength, and your compassion towards others are beyond reproach; let go of any lingering doubts you may have regarding yourself if you have not already."

There was a moment's silence between them before Obi-Wan's soft voice broke the hush.

"Your padawan has been most helpful in that regard – she has, you might say, showed me the light. The darkness I feared – to some degree, always will – was a true perversion of the Force as focused by that Sith mask. Once that truth was revealed, I was able to let go those 'lingering fears' you speak of."

Adi turned, then, smiling, noting how brilliant rays of light rimmed the still-youthful face, for whenever light lingered, it always found this Jedi and was loath to leave him. Shadows were lengthening, dusk soon to fall as the sun dipped behind a tall building.

"You have finally learned it is acceptable to take comfort from others – I remember your master's biggest complaint was that his padawan seemed to deny himself comfort even when he needed it, though he readily offered it to others without thought. Be yourself, always."

"Your words honor me, Master Gallia." He bowed.

"I am pleased that you have accepted your heart, as well as freed that of my own padawan. Such a treasure should not be kept so tucked away. It is what defeated the darkness that the mask tried to impose on you, from what I hear. You master would be proud of you – more so than he always was."

"I miss him, still," Obi-Wan murmured. "There was a time – when I almost felt him with me there, holding me, and then – for a moment, it seemed the Force saw fit to give me hope by allowing me to, er, connect to at least one that I – deeply care about - and remember why I fought so hard to resist the darkness."

"One you love."

Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to meet hers; they were as gentle as her words had been.

"Yes," he murmured almost inaudibly. What he knew inside himself was still difficult to put into words, and still needed to be constrained in public.

Long fingers brushed Obi-Wan's hand. "The Force works in mysterious ways – perhaps it knew love was the weapon you needed and so connected you to one you love and one who loves you in return. It seems to approve of you being together, so accept this I do.

"While I am gone, I know Siri and her heart will be in good hands," she allowed a smile on her face as Obi-Wan almost invisibly squirmed, "for today the Force dances in harmony within you both. Keep an eye on my former padawan for me – once a master, always a master. You, too, shall learn this someday."

He nodded, already knowing the truth of her words.

Should he live to ninety or more, he would always think of himself as the padawan of his master, just as he would always be master to Anakin and any other padawans he had raised by the time he rejoined the Force.

Force willing, that was many years in the future; there were few things he really wished to see as much as Anakin coping with a padawan of his own.

That was a few years off, yet. In the meantime - a small smile played over his lips - he just might indulge in a bit of payback.


	30. Dreams and Impossibilities

**Chapter 30. Dreams and Impossibilities **

Fingers fumbled through hair, the only outward sign of the agitation within as Anakin futilely tried to convince himself that Obi-Wan had merely taken the news of Aidus's death badly because he was taken unprepared.

Would the nightmares return, with no padawan to wake him and sooth him?

The distress so apparent in his face all but haunted him – he could understand Obi-Wan's concern for his padawan, so apparent in his greeting, but why would he mourn the death of a monster? His master took no death lightly, always before burying his reaction under a stoic mask and behind saddened eyes – but Aidus had been a monster. A callous, brutal being! Obi-Wan knew that better than anyone.

Why would this death be so much harder for him to absorb?

He didn't know.

Aidus was no more and no less than any other casualty of war – or should be considered so. Certainly his master had to know that Obi-Wan Kenobi's death would be devastating to more than just his padawan, but to the war itself. Taking the life of those who would have stolen it was the duty of a soldier, the protection of those who guarded the Republic against those who would destroy it.

War required much from those who fought, not unlike the Force required much of those who served it. What one did in service of the greater good was, by definition, good itself. It was not what one did, but who one did it for, and why – motivation was everything, not the deeds themselves.

Yet a tiny part of him continued to whisper that his master would not agree, nor really, any Jedi. One could not defeat evil by embracing the same was one of the earliest Jedi tenets drilled into him. _Do not become that which you seek to defeat, for then you fight yourself, not for others._

That part of him that sought his master's approval and understanding at least had a rationalization that stood: he had fought in defense of one once defenseless; he had killed one who would only kill again.

Self-defense did not need defending, and not one soul in the galaxy would disagree with that.

Not one.

Except, perhaps, one – the one on whose behalf he had acted and whose stricken face still blazed within his mind's eye.

**

"Hi, Angel."

"Ani!" Padmé's heart thumped at the sudden visage of her husband. He looked and sounded tired, his words soft and his hair rumpled.

"Angel, I recorded this during a brief stop on planet. I just wanted you to know I'm all right. I found…one of the beings who – mistreated – Obi-Wan, and we – we fought. He's dead and won't hurt Obi-Wan or anyone else again. I can't say I'm not pleased."

The figure in the hologram paused, wiped a hand over his face.

"I understand, my love," Padmé murmured. "He hurt your master terribly; it's natural to feel that way."

As if unable to hear his wife's thoughts – as of course he couldn't, Anakin continued, "I know I should mourn his death. My master does, despite everything, but I just can't. I can't, Angel. I'm glad he fought me and gave me the excuse to stop him from ever hurting anyone again."

He straightened and his voice grew strong. "I have no regrets, none. I have one request, though. It might be just that I woke him up when I reported, but Obi-Wan took it rather hard. I'm really worried about he took the news. Would you be a friend and check on him?"

"Of course, Ani."

"I wish…we could escape all this, everything and everybody, just you and me, the two of us. I'd love to do nothing but spend the rest of my life," his voice swelled with longing and a hint of naughtiness, "making love to you. You are the reason I breath, the reason my heart beats, and the reason I fight. Nothing else matters. If you would surrender everything, to _us_, I would surrender everything as well and we could find some place where nothing matters but _us_. You are my everything, my Angel, and I'll see you as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting with my hair down," she whispered. "Such a lovely dream, Anakin, but that's all it is, a dream. A fantasy to get us through the long separations, only."

"Don't let your hair down, my love – you know how much I love untangling that intricate hairdo, to let loose that cascade of hair as you shed the formal clothes of your office to transform into my Padmé. My woman, my wife – the _you_ that no one else ever sees. Force, I miss you, Angel. Dream of my arms about you as I dream the same, and soon our dreams will again be reality."

"Oh, Ani, I dream…."

Oh, how she longed to feel his arms around her, his fingers to dance through her hair and his lips to seek hers…oh, she dreamed all right; of utter, complete surrender to him. No man had ever had the ability to stir her blood as her Anakin. Compelling, intense, intoxicating…even in a hologram, he aroused desire in her as none before him ever had. No one else ever would.

As long as the stars blazed in the heavens, their love would as well and should the stars ever go out – their passion would be enough to ignite them once more.

The hologram winked out as Anakin and Padmé each blew a kiss towards the other.

**

"My dear Asajj, I have heard from my master that our ranks have been diminished by one: your aide-de-camp Aidus is no longer with us." Count Dooku dropped the words casually.

Ventress's eyes narrowed. "How so, my lord?" Her sibilant whisper cut the air, her anger almost palpable.

"He died – at Skywalker's blade, so my master has informed me." Dooku waved a negligent hand. "He was a brute – a useful brute, but a brute nonetheless and his loss is hardly important in the scheme of things. He served his purpose well."

"Skywalker! That simpering love-sick Jedi, bah!" Ventress spat. How that brat of a Jedi managed to carry on a secret tawdry love affair with his little strumpet of a Senator was perhaps his only redeeming factor – his ability to deceive and distract with the best of the Sith.

"He is powerful, my pet, do not make the mistake of underestimating him."

"Power is not quite everything, my master. Kenobi proved that."

"Do not deceive yourself; Kenobi is quite powerful," Dooku reminded her with a curl of his lip. "His power in the Force comes from his connection to it – pure power, no, he's not on the same level as Skywalker or Yoda, or even Mace Windu, but when he wields it, he wields it as well if not better than most."

Ventress smiled slowly, savoring her words, reminding the man she would have acknowledge her as apprentice, "Yet I had the power to reduce him, your 'powerful Jedi,' to a broken man, tormented by demons of my making."

Dooku's eyes flashed. He spoke to her as if a child and Ventress flinched, for this was the man she had given her allegiance to and at whose side she wished to learn the secrets of the Sith. She desired power, and only he could help her achieve it. She did not wish to be feared; she wished to inspire terror by the mere mention of her name. Asajj Ventress, assassin, no, she wanted more than that. Asajj Ventress, dark lady of the Sith – ah, there lay power, there lay true fear.

And Dooku could still cow her with a few well-chosen words.

"No, my pet, 'your Kenobi' has thrown off your demons and regained his health. He is as he was. He will ever be so as long as he lives, hence he must lay dead at our feet before he will be defeated and no longer a threat. However, he is the least of our concerns at the moment. You are leading Skywalker on a merry chase as requested; you are doing well. He is to remain your current focus."

"He shall die at my hands," Ventress promised, eyes flashing.

"As you broke Kenobi?" A sardonic raised eyebrow greeted that. "My pet, make no promises you cannot keep. I desire results, not promises. _My _master wishes Skywalker to pursue you, not you to kill him. However, as for myself…." He shrugged elegant shoulders in a gesture more eloquent than the unspoken words.

**

"So, my dear Obi-Wan, you have recovered from my most tender ministrations," Ventress hissed, turning away from the terminated holo-transmission. For some reason she was – pleased. It was a most uncomfortable feeling; she hated the Jedi more than any other being other than, perhaps, Skywalker.

Or did she? Could it be she admired him on some level?

Certainly the Jedi was no simpering coward: every scream of his had not been willingly given, no, each had been torn from him under duress, for a human body could only stand so much, Jedi or not. She had taken delight in each stroke of pain, the trickles and the streams of blood that had painted his bare skin in shades of red amongst the black and blue of bruising.

He had been a delightful canvas to decorate, a taut, muscular body begging to be stroked with fingernails, vibroblades and lightsaber, each caress of her weapon a sensuous pleasure. The tip of her tongue wetted her lips at the memory: revealing the body beneath the disgusting clothes, as with the clone, had been intended as a tool of humiliation and had become instead a means of gratification and lust. Lust, indeed yes, for she had lusted to deface this paragon of virtue who in return for her mocking dared to joke about that which she mocked.

Lust for Obi-Wan Kenobi as a man, no. Never. She had no interest in men, even such a man as he, no interest in coupling with another.

And if reluctant admiration for the Jedi had grown, it had been solely because he had dared – dared! – to find and show compassion rather than submission and hate to the woman determined to break him.

Had she allied Kenobi to her side, he the acolyte at _her_ feet – NO! A vibroblade buried itself into the nearest wall, quivering from the force of her throw.

How dare he. How _dare_ he!

Why, in the heart that she tried to deny existed, did she wish for him to reach out and take her hand?

**

Jocasta Nu had long ago forgiven Obi-Wan Kenobi for proving her beloved archives less than flawless. As with any Jedi, truth revealed was truth accepted.

When Master Yoda had checked into the possibility of the Archives being compromised – not to mention the glint in his eyes when he had casually remarked how Obi-Wan had reported from that non-existent planet - she had been forced to confront both her attachment to and belief that the Archives were above imprecision and imperfection.

Shattered, too, had been her firm belief that Count Dooku was no more and no less than a former Jedi who yet held true to the guidance of the Force. Her former friend was now a fallen Jedi.

A shared passion for precision and meticulous attention to detail had made them friends.

When incontrovertible proof had linked Dooku to the Separatists cause, once his role in detaining Obi-Wan in captivity and his subsequent attempt to kill him on Geonosis, thwarted by first Anakin Skywalker then Yoda himself, had come to light, Jocasta had been forced to a realization that she had dwelt too long within a zone of certainty that was instead imprecise.

Chastened and humbled, she had made amends as best she could.

As a symbol of her apologies, she had left a datadisk with details of Kamino – few as they were – in the Kenobi-Skywalker quarters while both Jedi recovered from the wounds incurred on Geonosis. It had come back to her with Obi-Wan's own data appended from his trip.

Neither had ever since referred to Kamino in each other's presence.

When Obi-Wan had searched the archives for information on missing or presumed dead Jedi during a certain time period, she had quietly and efficiently assisted without comment; together they had pinned down a name for the Jedi who had found and saved a young girl on Rattatak from murder: Ky Naroc.

With an archivist's eye for detail, she remembered him quite well: a hearty man, physically strong, with a passion for getting involved in righteous causes.

"He had a weak spot for the vulnerable and overlooked, much like your own master," Jocasta stated, accessing the Jedi's service record and missions. "He was lost years ago – a ship malfunction we thought. We never found a trace of him, though search parties had combed the sector where his last signal originated. Rattatak is outside the search boundaries."

"Space is infinite," Obi-Wan agreed. All too many ships thrown out of hyperspace, damaged and/or limping with sub-light engines, wandered perhaps forever unless lucky enough to have transmitted reasonably accurate coordinates or lucky enough that a passing ship stumbled past. It was impossible to search all vectors, all sectors and all systems. Somehow Ky Naroc had drifted far from his last reported coordinates.

"That's the face of the statue," he confirmed when Jocasta pulled up the Jedi's last likeness. He had had a strong face with a determined chin, ears set close to the skull, and skin olivine in hue. Obi-Wan sat back in his chair, then leaned forward, hand in chin.

"Is this of any help, Master Kenobi?"

"I don't know," he admitted, rubbing his chin.

Something deep within him told him Anakin would not find Ventress; if anyone were to, it would be him. Whilst a part of him shuddered at the thought and perhaps always would, it was a task he would shoulder willingly, for he alone bore the will to save her, perhaps the knowledge as well.

Spitting defiance, bearing the splattered blood of her parents upon her, witness to her dying mother's violation and her father's stoic countenance as he had been forced to watch – struggling in the grip of the same warlords who would do to her as had been done to her mother – she had seen a hand extended to her, the hand of a Jedi, of Ky Naroc.

She had taken his hand and moved towards the light, only to flee back into the dark of despair upon his murder.

Witness to that scene by virtue of seeing into Osaka Kirske's memories of his deeds that day long past – Obi-Wan knew he could do no less than Ky Naroc. He had to extend his own hand in forgiveness. Should she take his hand, he would pull her back from the dark on its behalf, should the Force allow him the opportunity.

The Force whispered she could be saved, if he but tried.

He was a Jedi and he could do no less. As a man, he wished he could do more.


	31. Mayhem in Motion

**Chapter 31. Mayhem in Motion**

Lightsabers flashed in a kaleidoscope of colors, clashing and disengaging as a calm voice cajoled and encouraged, threw out a remote or foot, occasionally adroitly dancing aside from an azure or emerald slash. The scene was reminiscent of a tapestry being woven in shades of potentially lethal light.

The imaginative and artistic side of the Jedi, rarely given free expression, appreciated this display of visual poetry even as it keenly dissected the movements into combat moves of deflection and attack, of parry and strike.

"Keep your focus, but not too tightly, be aware of your surroundings as much as your opponent's blades."

A hint of a smile at the instructor's own ignorance of his presence tugged at Obi-Wan's mouth, standing unnoticed in the doorway.

These students had learned well what the instructor taught, he noted, his attention back on what seemed controlled chaos. The apprentices were well balanced and in tune with the Force, their weapons nearly an extension of themselves as they should. The Jedi master remembered that stage in his own training – the delight when it all came together and the quiet frustration when it didn't.

Qui-Gon had been patient with him, teaching him how to release that frustration that hindered him, how to relax and how to let the Force flow freely through him and direct his movements. Learning to surrender to the Force had taken much work; now it was second nature to him.

True mastery of the Force, such as was achievable by mere sentient beings with a limited life span, came only from true surrender. To be a knight was to know oneself; to be a master was to know that one knew far too little if one only knew oneself.

These students would learn as well, given sufficient time, time that war might not give them.

In all the fights and clashes he had participated in as a padawan, his master had been at his side or nearby, his presence reassuring and steadying, despite the opposition. Such teamwork had helped keep him alive many a time; times where he would have been overwhelmed had he been on his own.

He hadn't had to use his lightsaber skills in outnumbered battles – outright war – all but unsupported and right out of this stage of training; these padawans would, more than likely. Facing an entire army, with one's master equally occupied, left a padawan no room for error or indecision.

He had been older, more skilled, more prepared, yet he had only barely survived his last fight as a padawan: he had fought not knowing if his master was dying or dead near him; fought alone and nearly died for that lack of support. Had he been younger, the age of these padawans, he would not have survived – would not have been able to let go of his human emotions and fill himself with the Force instead.

These thoughts, these memories, brought a mixture of pleasure and sadness to his face.

Some of these padawans would fall. He knew it, Siri knew it, and the padawans knew it.

If wishes could end wars, he would wish with every fiber of his being. Wars, however, were not won or lost by wishes; wars continued despite wishes. Wars needed to be won or lost, negotiated to an end, but never – never could they just be wished away.

With a silent sigh, he dismissed his unproductive musing and let those thoughts go – let the moment merely be itself. In this moment he would appreciate the grace of the movements and the flow of the Force.

At a momentary lull he spoke up, not bothering to hide his inner amusement as he remembered his reason for pausing on his way past.

"I'm flattered to hear, Knight Tachi, that you have every confidence in my lightsaber skills." Siri looked up, startled at the unexpected comment. "I was wondering if you'd care for a repeat performance, a further demonstration?"

"I, ah," she looked around at her students, wide-eyed.

"Practice makes perfect, you know, so I thought…?" Obi-Wan lounged comfortably against the doorway, arms crossed; he gazed at her with a hint of a raised eyebrow.

"Of…of course, but I have class…."

Her discomfiture was rather enjoyable; a sad state for a Jedi. He should not find amusement in this, but he did. Teasing was something he didn't usually indulge in but this was one opportunity he just couldn't pass up – he would never get another chance like this and he was in just too good a frame of mind to wear his usual serenity.

The padawans looked between the two adults, picking up nuances of amusement not easily associated with the actual words spoken. Knight Tachi's loss of composure was just as unexpected as Master Kenobi's obvious enjoyment of such.

"The healers saw no objections, no need for you to go easy on me. You have their permission to take full advantage," Obi-Wan paused; then threw her a wicked grin, "of my recovered state of health."

"You want to – to spar?" It was pathetic, almost, how she almost squeaked the words.

The padawans were politely pretending disinterest, though curiosity ran rampant through the Force.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, looked down and patted his hip as if to be certain he hadn't mistaken what was attached to his belt, before returning his gaze to her.

"A perfect opportunity, don't you think? After all, I do have my lightsaber with me, and after what you said to Master Gallia earlier, well, I thought you might like to see it in action and, er, confirm your conclusion as to my - capabilities." The rakish grin came out now, when the man's amusement overrode the Jedi's serene face. Siri understood now – her eyes narrowed, promising retribution later on.

"Find me after class, and I'll find out just what you're made of, Master Kenobi. Today's class is already scheduled and an impromptu spar would be best at another time."

"Of course." He bowed, nodded to the padawans and headed to a small training room to loosen up with some remotes. He knew he was going to pay for those remarks, but it had been worth it – the redoubtable knight had not been reduced to such a state since she was a junior padawan.

He hadn't feel so young and carefree in – decades, if ever, really. Force, it felt good.

And if someone heard him whistling a lighthearted tune under his breath, he really didn't care.

**

He was powering off his lightsaber with one hand and reaching for a towel to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face with the other when a slight whisper through the Force warned him that several remotes had been triggered and a number of bolts were about to strike him.

If he hadn't already known who was there, Obi-Wan might easily have thought his padawan had returned unannounced and decided to retaliate for his master's earlier "sneak attack."

With a quick flick of his thumb to activate the on switch, the Jedi casually whipped his lightsaber over his shoulder and behind him and deflected several bolts, sidestepping another few as he swung about to see Siri standing, hands on hips, shaking her head.

"Your reflexes _are_ back, Kenobi." She deactivated the remotes and called them back to her hand, all the while gazing at him without a hint of a smile on her face. He knew her too well, though, to be deceived.

"As I told you last night, my midis are the healthiest they've been in ages, I swear I feel them practically dancing in my cells. My connection is fully restored; even the healers agree."

Siri's eyes widened. "So, ah, how did the healers – you saw them, ah, what did you tell them?" She floundered for words.

Obi-Wan frowned. "As little as possible." He coughed and added, "I said my Force connection had, ah, suddenly intensified. From a certain point of view, that was the absolute truth." He scratched the back of his head and grinned at her.

"Neille said that it must have been one heck of a Force surge to stimulate the midis like that – and apparently a pleasurable one to boot since I had elevated levels of oxytocin in my system - but that it worked and that whatever I did I should do again if necessary – but he didn't think it would be."

"Oh, fine, okay, then." Siri bit her lip and looked at her feet. Before she could look up to reveal the grin she was trying to restrain, Obi-Wan was before her, one finger lifting her chin so he could meet her eyes. He was grinning, too, not at all fooled, though he quickly sobered.

"All joking aside, Siri, as much as we both enjoy pointed innuendo, it has to end if we're to remain discreet about our relationship, at least in front of others, especially tongue-wagging padawans. Besides, I do really take it – us – too seriously to joke about it." He dropped a light kiss on her nose and stepped back, powering his lightsaber up and bringing it into first position.

As soon as Siri was in position, Obi-Wan attacked, nearly making a kill point with his first strike. "Expect the unexpected," he chided. He usually fought defensively and the female Jedi barely parried his unexpected stroke.

"Bring it on, big boy," Siri retorted.

Since there was no one else present, he couldn't resist one last quip as he ducked and sidestepped her counterstrike. "Ah, I see I've grown in your estimation." He winked as Siri gaped at him; her surprise almost allowed him a second chance at a win point but her recovery was as quick as her return quip.

"We'll see about that, Kenobi. Tonight, if you think you're up to it."

This time she almost scored on him.


	32. How Tidy Grows the Garden

**Chapter 32**. **How Tidy Grows the Garden**

Fear…anger…confusion…satisfaction…the emotions tasted sweet, a potent brew and oh, so intoxicating. Sidious's nose twitched, a physical manifestation of the Force sensations he sensed.

The Sith reveled in the miasma and chaotic confusion that still muddied the Force, a residue of his future apprentice's recent dark side dabbling.

Anakin Skywalker was not yet ready to see his actions for what they were, for he was still contaminated by the Light, the Jedi's influence – _Kenobi's_ influence - still ascendant in his conscious mind.

The boy still desperately wanted - desperately wished - to believe he was merely the arm of Justice, searching for and finding justification for his acts in the tenets of the Jedi code: Defender of the Weak and Savior for the Force. He had all but persuaded himself that his motives were laudable, principled and oh, so utterly right, yet he was so utterly in denial of his true motivation – revenge, the subtle desire born of loss and shackles when young.

The Jedi had no idea what brewed in the deepest recesses of the Chosen One for they had never raised a young one born a slave and raised a slave. The seed of rebellion had always been in the boy's heart, just waiting for the right gardener to coax into life and then prune into a shape of his own choosing.

That one was Sidious, who understood that passion could co-exist with power, and the more of both, the better.

Yet somehow, for all his ineptness and ignorance, the boy's master - Kenobi the meddlesome and all but impossible to kill Jedi! – had snared the boy in nearly equal measure, in a far more tender trap that proved difficult to break.

Kenobi commanded the boy's conscience while Sidious commandeered the boy's heart.

Sidious had the easier task, but no easy task it was, not when the opposition was Kenobi. Even unaware of his role, the Guardian was impressive; he held dominion over the Chosen One except when the two were parted – and partings were all too easily arranged, laughably so.

From the first sensing of the boy's powerful Force potential, Sidious had tilled the fertile ground of an impressionable young mind, fertilized it with sweet poison and carefully planted seeds that flowered into doubt and rationalization when the ego-affirming water -praise - of a caring, affectionate friend was ever so carefully sprinkled on the maturing bud.

The Jedi had tended to their seedling with indifferent hands, shaping the vine into a shape it was never meant to be, tied to a trellis when it longed to grow free. Caged against a framework of shoulds and should nots, it subsisted not thrived.

Oh, it had been so easy to gain the boy's affection and trust, to have him willingly and unknowingly give Sidious the very weapons he would use to turn the boy against the Jedi – his need for affirmation, his need to be "special," and his need to be recognized.

He had _so_ carefully nurtured the boy, massaging his ego and filling him with pride.

Doubt was so easily planted in one who cared to _do_ far more than think: to plant ideas and thoughts that had never been there by adroitly twisting what was longed for into what was denied, to undermine the Jedi teachings with truth, but a truth so subtly shaded that no suspicion could be aroused by them if divulged.

So it was that Anakin Skywalker only thought he had come to a justification for killing, one that eased his conscious mind, but his real fear and revulsion had only been tucked deep within, adding to the churning cauldron of emotion that fueled him and would not allow his conscience rest.

One day the repressed emotions would seek escape in a glorious burst of ecstatic rage. The self-loathing, the guilt, the grief would all combine in such a way as to overwhelm Skywalker's moral center – the only way the boy would be able to survive would be to turn that rage at himself into rage at another – and then the transformation would be complete.

It was all so carefully and artfully arranged. Deep inside, what could have been Skywalker's strength in the Force had been turned to a personal weakness, his unique compassion and connections to others the weapon used to destroy the Jedi.

When he exploded, he would explode against that weakness. After years of Sidious's manipulations on how to view himself and those around him, he would not see a weakness in himself, but a weakness in those who had taught him.

He had been trained too well to look elsewhere.

Chancellor Palpatine had praised his inner strength, his moral character, and his compassion. Anakin Skywalker had been convinced he possessed these qualities in abundance and far in excess of his Jedi brethren. The Chosen One would have no choice whom to blame. None, for Sidious had seen to that – Skywalker was above weakness, above blame, above shame.

Skywalker's moral failings would have nowhere to be laid except at the feet of the Jedi; of Kenobi, the man who guarded his conscience and the guardian who had failed to do so.

The Jedi that Skywalker would murder to wipe away any taint of weakness; Kenobi's death would seal Skywalker as a Sith - forever.

**

"Why do I feel like I'm willingly walking into a wretched hive of scum and villainy?" Obi-Wan murmured under his breath as the three Jedi disembarked at the landing pad of the Senate office building, drawing their hoods up for the short distance before they would be under cover as rain lashed down upon them. "The sacrificial k'rau thrown on the altar of political expediency."

"Tut, tut, Master Kenobi," Mace chided, though the outward severity was the opposite of the inner amusement. "After what you've already survived, you can survive this."

"I speak not of this rain," Obi-Wan replied with morose dignity, shivering slightly as a gust of wind caught his cloak.

Climate control on Coruscant meant there were few periods of inclement weather; something a Jedi could appreciate after missions in scorching heat, steamy swamps, or even cold, dreary prison cells. Today was not such a day, for while the Jedi normally enjoyed a good storm, he was not fond of pairing a good storm with an apt to be equally stormy and outwardly ever so polite meeting with the Chancellor.

He wrapped his cloak a little more tightly around himself as they moved past the rows of mighty columns. It didn't help that the weather reminded him, rather uncomfortably based on subsequent events, of Kamino and of Jabiim. It missed only the mud of the latter, though one might successfully argue that political mudslinging was just as messy as the real thing.

This was Obi-Wan's first official trip outside the Temple since his return. It would have to be a meeting with a politician, he had grumbled quietly to Mace in private, earning a consoling slap on the shoulder along with a, "Those are hardly words one expects from the Jedi's own master negotiator."

It had been a half-humorous complaint then, but now for some inexplicable reason he felt a tinge of unease.

"I – feel something," He shrugged and looked around at him. "It's a bit like, well, an unpleasant aftertaste of something that was not pleasant to begin with."

"Are you feeling well, Obi-Wan?" Mace turned his head to study his younger colleague, a look of concern etched over his features at this uncharacteristic grumbling. At Obi-Wan's shake of his head, Mace shrugged and looked at Plo Koon.

That Jedi's expression was unreadable behind his mask; he spread his arms wide and murmured, "You know Obi-Wan and his views on politicians…."

"An entirely rational view warranted by events – ," he was interrupted before he could finish the sentence.

"Come, Obi-Wan, just pretend you're the serene and calm Jedi master you're reputed to be and Plo and I will see that you survive to get back to the Temple. Palpatine is only a politician, not a Sith lord." With a smirk and a pat on his colleague's arm, Mace led the three past the columns and into the building proper.

"You only say that because you like the man," Obi-Wan said morosely, not at all mollified as he fell into step. "While I would not say I dislike him… something about him makes me uneasy. Perhaps the way he's been so solicitous with his good wishes and desire to meet with me 'whenever convenient'. He has never devoted much attention to me before that I'm aware of."

The Chancellor had sent several messages through the Council, expressing his desire to meet with Master Kenobi. He would find it "personally gratifying" to express in person his delight at the Jedi's safe return, since "Master Kenobi" had not been present in Council when the Chancellor had first become aware of the republic's "great fortune."

Obi-Wan had found it convenient to be absent or unavailable to take such messages, sending in return a polite acknowledgement of the sentiments expressed.

"Why, Obi-Wan – you're his new best friend." Mace's lips twitched as if fighting back a smile. He swiveled his head when he didn't get the expected rueful snort he expected and quickly decided it would be prudent to drop the teasing when he saw the look Obi-Wan was shooting at him.

He raised his hands in a placatory gesture.

"Actually, I believe he has kept an eye on your career since Naboo, but now you've given him a big boost in the public approval ratings. 'Kenobi and Skywalker are reunited; the Republic is again in the hands of its two greatest Jedi. With Palpatine's firm hand at the reins, victory is near'."

Obi-Wan made a face, even more fearsome than the last. "You know I dislike publicity and – and this elevation of myself and Anakin to 'hero' status -." He breathed out his annoyance and breathed in tranquility.

By the time the three reached the reception area, all three were the perfect picture of Jedi: calm, at ease, and composed.

As senior Jedi, Mace announced the Jedi's arrival, a mere formality to satisfy protocol. While they waited, Obi-Wan tucked his hands within his robes and studied the artwork on display, though with only a small part of his attention. Something else was tickling at his Force senses; rather than strain to identify it, he was content to let it make itself known in its own time.

He turned and bowed with the others as the Chancellor appeared in his office doorway, a look of deep pleasure on his distinguished face.

"Master Koon, Master Windu," the Chancellor advanced to meet them, arm outstretched in greeting. "Master Kenobi – my friend, I am delighted to see you looking so well after your terrible ordeal. Torture - I just can't imagine such in this day and age. Absolutely vile what was done to you - a lesser man would have succumbed, I'm quite sure."

Catching sight of Mace's frown of displeasure, the Chancellor flinched. "I do apologize, Master Kenobi, absolutely unforgivable of me I'm sure; you must find the memories distressing…please, come this way."

His hand dropped onto the Jedi's shoulder, a slight push urged him to lead the way into his private office.

Behind the two, Mace and Plo exchanged looks: Mace's half-joking assessment that Obi-Wan was now the Chancellor's favorite Jedi was entirely accurate. One might think Palpatine and Obi-Wan were old, close friends rather than acquaintances of many years standing.

Ever since announcing the Jedi master's return during the opening of the current Senate session, Palpatine had ridden the polls to new heights of popularity, clearly elevating the Jedi's status with the politician just as predicted.

Gesturing the Jedi to seats, Palpatine wagged a friendly finger in Obi-Wan's face. "My dear friend, you had us all terribly worried and these colleagues of yours were so protective of you that they failed to even let me know of your return at first. Now I've heard that Senator Amidala has snuck in the first outside visit to you – I'm disappointed not to be the first to welcome you back."

"The Senator is not one to wait on formalities," Obi-Wan said with a smile, unobtrusively shaking off the Chancellor's hand which remained on his shoulder as the three Jedi politely waited for the politician to be first seated. "Surely, Chancellor, you asked us here on business, not a social call."

Palpatine had the grace to look abashed. "Your Jedi perception, I assume. Both, actually. I am well aware that your padawan is on a mission of undetermined duration; he had told me beforehand he wished to use some of his leave to see justice done his master. He also had the courtesy to contact me – somewhat later after contacting you, to let me know one threat to the Republic has been eliminated, that brute Aidus who inflicted so much pain on you."

Keen eyes studied the Jedi as if for a reaction; finding none, the Chancellor smiled and spread his hands. "I deemed this a perfect opportunity to see how you were doing, and knew you would be one of the Council members to come since I specifically mentioned Padawan Skywalker when I asked if several representatives of the Council might meet with me. Rather clever, wouldn't you say?"

"Very clever," Mace agreed, a somewhat sour look spoiling the attempt at polite agreement.

The Chancellor's smile faltered slightly. "Surely you have no objections to, ah, combining two objectives into one?"

"The second objective is?" Plo encouraged as Obi-Wan unobtrusively studied the Chancellor. A brief flare of alarm had sounded when the man's gaze had rested on him – Palpatine had seemed concerned how he would react when Aidus had been mentioned, but if so, why had he brought the man's name into the conversation? For all Palpatine's professed wish not to distress him with further references to the past, the Chancellor was doing a remarkable job of doing just that.

In fact, that glance had seemed almost speculative, rather than concerned.

Had Mace noticed, as well? He had quickly glanced at Obi-Wan and then back to the Chancellor, subtly shifting towards his colleague as if to ready to offer reassurance should any be needed.

"Reversing the Separatists incursion into the Middle Rim, for one. Fate has lately favored them; it is time to put our heads together and formulate new strategies, new tactics. Count Dooku, as a former Jedi, is rather familiar with how the Order thinks and how it plans. Since the Senate apparently trusts my leadership – or lacks faith in their own – I thought perhaps we might review some potential changes – whether in planning, intelligence gathering – or command structure?"

The room went suddenly quiet. Mace's eyes narrowed a fraction; Obi-Wan crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat, looking thoughtful. He had found this a useful tool, whether genuine or not, and there was no need to antagonize the Chancellor.

Shooting a placatory look at his colleagues, Obi-Wan rubbed his chin and offered, "I believe I speak for the Council, with your permission, Master Windu, when I say the Jedi Order is always willing to entertain any thoughts that may help end this war."

"Fine man, fine man, I knew you'd be reasonable – of course that's why you earned the nickname 'the negotiator'."

"We are always happy to consider any option that furthers peace," Mace stepped in smoothly.

"A quick end to the war is in all of our best interests, though we know the pain and suffering will continue long past the war's ending. The Order hopes the Senate will move quickly to help reconstruct those planets and the lives of its citizens," Plo Koon added.

"I shall endeavor to do my best to persuade the Senate of this, of course," the Chancellor agreed. One could see in his face he rather doubted how successful he would be. "I fear the Senate will regain its will to postpone any decisions until too late to act. By then, my hands may be somewhat limited – once I have given up those emergency powers granted me during this time of tragedy. I admit that I look forward to giving up this heavy mantle of responsibility, though at the cost of a less efficient and responsive government."

"The Jedi Order will resume its humanitarian missions in the meantime, once our military commissions have been retired," Mace promised. "Perhaps the hard work of the Jedi may, er, 'shame' the Senate into action."

"I hope you are right. Before we get down to business, please allow me the indulgence of catching up on things with Master Kenobi." He turned his gaze on Obi-Wan and beamed, the very picture of a concerned friend.

Obi-Wan politely smiled, wondering all the while why he felt like an elkhorn caught bounding into the middle of a pod race.

"Chancellor, I think the report routed to you speaks for itself; Master Kenobi does not wish to dwell on what he experienced -," Obi-Wan's hand on his arm stopped Mace in mid-sentence. _I am Jedi_, Obi-Wan's look said, _don't worry, Mace, I can handle this._

Mace glanced at each of them in turn and nodded, torn between amusement and irritation, but the Order would never knowingly antagonize the Chancellor. He was the leader of the political and war arm of the Republic and their ally. Good relations were easier to maintain than to repair.

Rumors were starting to circulate, as well, that some in the Senate were privately whispering of turning oversight of the Order over to his office as well. None of the Council was as yet worried, but their ability to operate independently could be limited under the firm hand of one man, rather than the lackadaisical oversight of the Senate.

Such outside – and political - authority was something Master Dooku, while still a member of the Order, and later Qui-Gon Jinn, had argued against: the lack of true autonomy if the Order continued to be associated with the Republic Judiciary department.

Long gone were the days the Order answered only to the Force.

Something about that thought prickled at Obi-Wan's nerves, a warning or premonition? Whichever it was, he vowed to be mindful – for when the Force spoke, he listened.

Unfortunately, its message was so often clouded these days.


	33. The Way of the Force

**I was out of town for three weeks over the last two months and did not post regularly, so I'll play catch up...we're nearing the end (there IS a sequel but it's only partially written). We're definitely going AU if you haven't already noticed.**

* * *

**Chapter 33. The Way of the Force**

The flames had died down and were all but extinguished; the bodies reduced to bits of bone and ash. The souls of three more Jedi soared free now, one with the Force. Their earthly bodies would stride planets no more; their luminous selves would stride stars.

Obi-Wan stood with bowed head, next to his fellow Council members. He had stood in the funerary all too many times in the last few years. It had been a rare thing when he had been young…still all but new to him when he had stood next to Qui-Gon's body all those many years ago on Naboo.

These Jedi were casualties of yet another battle: two who returned only in shells of flesh and one who released the body to join them shortly after.

He had known one quite well; the other two less so. While one loss was more personal, the death of them all saddened him even as he sought to release his grief in the Force; to accept the knowledge that they were at last in peace.

Watching as the flames caressed their earthly remains, Obi-Wan saw again that pyre of long ago: the clasped hands, the face quiet as if in sleep. It hadn't quite seemed real, back then; a dream that should have been a nightmare, but the nightmares had come only at night, not there at the side of his master.

Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi had then stood as chief mourner at the pyre of the man who had been mentor, teacher, and father to him for half his life. He had stood there as mentor, teacher, and father in training, hoping in time he would fulfill those roles half as well, be that same hero to his young charge as his master had been to him.

Anakin had needed Obi-Wan's strength, then, but his hero had remained Qui-Gon Jinn. Never Obi-Wan Kenobi, never the substitute, never the one he had nearly supplanted. He gave his new master affection, but not his devotion. He gave his loyalty, but not his full trust.

With a soft sigh of remembrance as he returned to the present, the Jedi stirred a little, aware what had triggered that memory. It was Anakin's absence that recalled that first time together and all the times subsequent, even if he could all but hear his master's admonitions.

_Do not live in the past or the future, Padawan, for the only moment that counts is this one._

He closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, a slight smile on his lips as the memory of those words washed across his mind. _Yes, Master_.

And so it was that this time when he returned his attention to the waning flames, he _saw_ neither past nor future.

Instead he _felt_: the eternal pulse of the Force that bound them all. He felt the sorrow bound to the curls of smoke that ascended and he felt the gradual acceptance that crept into sorrow's place.

In that _feeling_, he again knew that death was merely a doorway, not an ending, and that in the fullness of time one could indeed rejoice at another's return home to the Force, for death that merely transformed into life. It was a lesson he relearned each time he stood before the flames, for a human heart mourned what a Jedi would come to accept, each time confronted with death.

The younger Jedi present were still learning these lessons; their focus on the physical: the transformation of flesh to ash, of curls of smoke, and of odors that once identified could never again be mistaken for anything else.

Even with the slight breeze waffling the edges of cloaks and loose locks of hair, the acrid odor mingled with the sweeter smell of h'a'ria, the traditional wood of a Jedi funeral pyre. This wood burned with little smoke; aromatic with a hint of spice, it was the perfect wood for a funeral pyre.

Those older felt, saw and smelt little of these things, far more attuned to the spiritual than physical aspect of the ancient ritual.

Like those around him, Obi-Wan gathered his grief and pain and joined it to the last wisps of dissipating smoke to find the release he sought in the Force and the acceptance in turn; the sure knowledge that they were at last in peace.

Peace.

It eluded the living; it seemed only achievable in death these days.

_Kenobi!_

He passed a hand over his forehead, chiding himself for such negative and unproductive thoughts. Unconstructive pessimism was a useless waste of energy and not something he was given to. Peace was always achievable if one believed. Joy and beauty were still to be found; hope and love still abounded.

He just needed to meditate and bring his focus back into balance. Yes, comrades fell and innocents suffered, war raged on, and yes; he was separate from all that, untouched, but only because war had touched him. He was home to recuperate and heal, and if he had found love and contentment in the moment, it did not mean that he minimized the suffering of others.

It just seemed so.

Now that he was healthy, he felt it was his duty to return to where he was needed, for the simple and incontrovertible fact remained that living beings were dying each day – and he, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was home safe with the woman he loved. While so many others were in jeopardy, he was not.

He glanced across the room to find Siri's eyes resting on him. Wordless though their communication was, he saw in the pinch of her fingers against the cuff of her robe, the small biting of her lips and the blink of her eyes that she was remembering standing here, mourning another death – his.

He sent silent comfort through their bond: _even should I someday lie here before you, I will not have left you, for we live in the Force. _

_Should I lie here before you, I will have merely gone ahead and will wait for you – just don't rush to join me._

He hid a smile; let her thoughts warm his heart even if not allowed to upturn his lips, this solemn occasion.

He glanced at all the other Jedi gathered round: Yoda, Mace, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Plo Koon. Jayren and a solemn contingent of younglings. Friends and colleagues, all. Bant, Neille, healers who were not with patients, Bant who had done all in her power to save one and found it not enough.

They all knew loss, but none knew failure, for loss was transitory and the Force home to them all. They knew that, deep in their souls, and it comforted when the human heart grieved.

Obi-Wan returned his eyes to the last of the flames, dying into glowing embers of red and yellow, the blue of intense heat long past. Crimson and gold….a tremor shuddered through his body.

_Faces…faces danced in the flame…eyes reflected the red slash of a crimson blade, the yellow of unleashed hate and fury…the clash of blades and the sizzle of blaster bolts as Jedi piled up like the wood of a funeral pyre…a young female padawan's face, upturned to the light, sprawled on her back, her last act an attempt to shield the crechlings behind her, all dead as well…the light fading from Siri's eyes as she gasped her last…Jedi cut down…his padawan's back, stiff with outrage as he faced the carnage…_

…with a strangled swallow, Obi-Wan pulled out of the vision and blinked. They stood as yet; his comrades, his friends, and the woman he loved, still stood. The bond that connected him to Anakin was still intact, if silent.

But for how long? Was this a vision of the future to be or warning of what might come to pass, what might yet be averted?

_Force grant me the ability to see what I must do, to hear your will, to obey your wish… let me not be an obstacle but your ally and accomplice._

He breathed out the shock of the vision as he had learned years ago. He had been free of such intensely disturbing ones as this for many years now.

A movement to one side caught his eye. Yoda was nodding, ever so slightly, touched by the vision as well, eyes thoughtful and concerned as they studied Obi-Wan. Of all the Jedi, Yoda saw deepest into the Force and received visions most other Jedi did not. Had he shared Obi-Wan's vision: in full or altered; had he merely been brushed by it?

A slow blink of his eyes told Obi-Wan they would speak of this later; a wave of calm was sent to sooth him. Obi-Wan relaxed and nodded ever so slightly. He let it go…released it into the Force, the horror dispelled, but the warning not to be ignored.

*

With a slight nod of his head, Yoda indicated it was time for the assembled Jedi to disperse. First to leave were the youngest by seniority; the last, the Council members, with only close friends remaining behind as desired.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air as he started down the worn stone steps, Obi-Wan felt more than saw Siri step forward to walk at his side.

"Hey, there." Her fingers found his and pressed; released. They walked in silence for a few minutes.

He glanced at her and saw the faintest shimmer in her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am," she said. "Many of us will fall in this war, Obi-Wan, many of us have already. Once I thought you had. My mourning is behind me, not that I wouldn't care if you died – I would mind terribly – but I do know you would be waiting for me, having merely gone ahead. If I go before you, well, how you deal with it is your problem."

She managed a small smile that Obi-Wan returned. He didn't think he wanted to tell her about the vision he'd just had. He might just find out what life was like without Siri – he would face that when it came, if it came.

Not now.

Force willing, not for a long time.

**

Though the healers had pronounced Obi-Wan healed in both mind and body, it seemed the Council was not so convinced, or at least Mace and Yoda. They flat out told him he would be on personal leave for some time yet.

"So eager are you, to return to war?" Yoda asked, his ears swiveling in disappointment. He stared at Obi-Wan intently, his very look demanding that Obi-Wan look deep within himself before responding.

The three of them sat in Yoda's quarters, on the meditation cushions the little master preferred. Most of the Council was away at battle.

"Yoda, leave Obi-Wan alone," Mace chided gently, but Yoda remained unmoved.

Obi-Wan scowled, but Yoda was unmoved, just as he remained when Obi-Wan sighed and settled into meditation. He finally raised his eyes to Yoda.

"I would prefer none of us ever to return to war," he said firmly. "I wish not to be here when I am needed there, though, and I wish to see Anakin through his training. Other than some lingering concerns over his mastery of himself that I have and you minimize, his knighting seems not far off."

"And of Ventress – what say you should Anakin return without her?" Yoda encouraged.

A blink was the only betrayal of Obi-Wan's surprise. He realized he had assumed Anakin would succeed, for he could remember very few instances of Anakin failing at a task, though some had turned out less than successful.

"I should wish to pursue her myself," he admitted, after due consideration. Mace stared at him while Yoda only nodded in acknowledgment. He hesitated, but self-knowledge was the bedrock of a Jedi, so he delved deeper. "I – yes, it is personal," he finally confessed.

A soft humph was Yoda's response; Mace leaned forward with a quizzical look at Yoda, not Obi-Wan, then cleared his throat and asked why.

"Because of Anakin, as well as for Ventress." It was the honest response, the truest response he could articulate. "Remember, I knew rejection once. I thought my life was destroyed when I was sent away to Bandomeer, but I know now I would have survived. Then, had you not accepted me back after that Melida/Daan debacle, I would have survived, though I thought differently then.

"Yet, what would have become of me had I been sought by darkness, never had known the power of the light as I was immersed in darkness? What would I be even now had I not escaped from Ventress? That Sith mask – it would have turned me, eventually. Not one of us is invincible in the light – when the dark has snuffed out any trace of light, any of us could succumb.

"What would Anakin be now had not the Order accepted him? Would the Sith have found him, turned him into another Sith had we left him be? Is Ventress what she is because the Sith found her and groomed her for evil? She is not evil at heart – I know she was twisted and perverted into what she is, as I might have been, as Anakin could possibly have been."

He saw again in his mind's eye the broken figure of a girl, covered in blood, abused at the feet of her dead parents. She was no childish innocent, not with warlords for parents who took her on their own vicious and bloody campaigns, but she had been a child and exposed to a life no child should ever be.

Just as with Anakin, scars of a life no child should ever face had affected the young person and adult each had grown into.

Anakin would forever strive to stand out, to be noticed, to need approval – all things a Jedi should never desire. Obi-Wan's goal had always been to help Anakin control what he could not suppress, to modify what he could not discard.

Ventress as well sought acceptance in the only way she knew how.

He wanted to show her a different way; a path the Force opened before her if she just recognized it as the opportunity it was.

"You want to redeem her?" Mace said quietly, steepling his fingers and looking at Obi-Wan with a hint of pity.

"I want her to have a chance to redeem herself," Obi-Wan countered. "Because I felt in her a spark of light that has not been swallowed by the dark. I saw – I saw her tears and I remembered the tears…of a Jedi."

The three Jedi looked at each, until Yoda got up and slowly paced over to Obi-Wan to stand at his knee and look searchingly at him. With a small nod, a three-fingered hand patted the surprised Jedi's knee. Mace merely raised an eyebrow as he watched.

"Talk we will, when your padawan returns. See first whether Ventress accompanies him, or not," Yoda pronounced with finality, as he climbed onto his hoverchair and guided it out of the room.

His last words drifted back to them. "Savior you cannot be, young Obi-Wan, but the beacon of light in the window to guide the lost in from the dark you may prove to be. Guardian of the Light you are. Allow you to try, we should."

Yoda's words deeply moved Obi-Wan; it was a sign of trust as well as hope. He had no grand illusions about being such a "candle to light the dark;" he merely knew that he could not just stand by and watch a person drown in darkness when all it might take to save that person was just one hand extended to help.

"Yoda has a point," Mace conceded. "If you don't mind telling me, what significance do tears have?"

"Hope," Obi-Wan said simply. "When I was fighting that mask, Mace, I…I cried at what I was feeling, what part of me gloried in, and now I see, my tears meant hope – that not all light was yet extinguished and there was still – hope. Even if I never again shed tears outwardly, I hope my heart never loses the capacity to feel them."

The older Jedi stood and dropped a hand on the younger Jedi's shoulder. "We will see if your padawan returns with Ventress before our next step. For now, Obi-Wan, your time with the younglings is time well spent. They are our hope for the future; their guidance is no less important than the war effort."

A Force ghost nodded, ethereal hands resting on his padawan's shoulders. All Obi-Wan needed now was knowledge; he now had all the tools he needed to save Anakin and thus, the lives of so many more. Knowledge was the last link - and Qui-Gon could not impart that. From where or whence that knowledge would come - or if it would come in time - the Force did not reveal.

As for this moment - the ghost was in full agreement with both Jedi. _Teach them, my padawan: teach them all to nurture the tears of a Jedi yet not allow the tears to overrule the mind - in tandem they must work, the heart and mind in balance. One who achieves that has achieved all that a mortal being is capable of._


	34. Realizations

For some reason, I am unable to review the reviews, but I did wish to respond to a comment about fitting in "love" within the constraints of the Jedi Code. One of my goals was to make any romance believable for the characters. At the time, I wasn't sure if the romance would "go" or not; there was a good possibility that it would have been denied (dramatically strong) but I decided since the inspiration was a "Siriwan" comment relating to Jabiim, I was going to go all out.

I have been a part of many discussions on several forums as to the meaning of "attachment" within the Jedi Code and in this story am going with the definition that allowed the romance**: "the ability to let go,"** or the type of love that Siri and Obi exhibit within this story.

**

* * *

****Chapter 34**. **Realizations**

"See you later – midday meal if not before?"

Obi-Wan's straight-faced inquiry was met by a parting kiss and a pat on the rear. He firmly removed Siri's hand – hesitated as she pretended to pout - then with a long-suffering sigh, planted his hand on the small of her back and pulled her close for a last kiss.

"Mmm." Her eyes were soft and dreamy, her skin still glowing when they separated.

"Knight Tachi, that smile better be off your face when we next meet – you'll give us away." Obi-Wan prudently backed away as Siri's eyes narrowed at him, opening the door to her quarters and escaping quickly, for if she got her hands on him he might just be persuaded to remain a while longer.

Just a step or two behind him, Siri _humphed_ and followed him.

Each Jedi headed off separately, most likely to rejoin in the meal hall for first meal. Obi-Wan first planned to swing by his quarters and gather some datadisks. Few Jedi were up and around at this hour; yet the hour was late enough not to arouse comment should he have been seen.

Even after years, his eyes still scanned for impediments to travel lying scattered across the common room – small bits and pieces of droid parts that Anakin had littered the place with until he had been banned to his room or one of the Temple workrooms when engaged in mechanical construction of some odd thing or other.

Sometimes, though he wondered why, he missed those days. Perhaps he missed the days when shadows didn't occasionally haunt his padawan's eyes. Each day had been a discovery, each day a journey that had brought them closer together.

There had been too many tumultuous times after that, though still interspersed with the good.

He had to accept a fair share of the blame for the distance between them. Far too many things he wished he had done different, far too many things he wished he had been able to express and to understand.

Perhaps his padawan felt the same. Anakin had reached out to him after his ordeal; tried to understand the human his master was. Sometimes Obi-Wan still didn't know at any given time if Anakin needed a master, or a friend, but he was determined to listen and to be both.

He had learned several important lessons from Jabiim and its aftermath – he did need others, not just the Force, and that he needed to let those important in his life know that as well. As he had discovered, the rewards were immeasurable.

Such as Siri.

Heading for his small desk, he glanced sideways at his always neatly made up bed, and paused to marvel at the memories his mind conjured up. It had been many things over the years…

… a refuge, a warm cocoon from life's pressures and stresses. It had sheltered his weary body as his mind sought the relief of temporary oblivion.

… a place he could shelter a trying-to-be-brave young padawan with an arm around his shoulders and a nighttime story as a storm rumbled and raged outside. He hadn't bothered at such times to admonish the boy to release the fear, for such might have kept both separate and alone when both needed times like this to be other than just master and padawan – to be quivering cowards together (or so he had pretended).

… a place where he had found contentment and peace in the arms of one who loved him and whom he loved in return. Within Siri's embrace he was only Obi-Wan, not Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi master, council member, or master to his padawan. He had no need to be any of those Kenobi's; he could be solely himself.

Yet one thing had never changed in all those years – once sleep had claimed him, he was loath to leave his bed's confines.

As a child, let alone as an adult, he had never been one to waken cheerfully, let alone slid out of bed without a second thought. Only discipline made it appear that way. Yet ever since he had begun to wake, not alone, he at least found the waking up far easier to accept - and the leaving the bed just as difficult even if for an entirely different reason.

Just like this morning....he had taken advantage of Siri's suggestion for a bit of "morning exertion" to start the day.

A small smile played over his lips as he gathered the disks, remembering the morning. While crossing the common room on his way out, the com console chimed.

It was an incoming call from Senator Amidala. Quirking his eyebrows together at the uncharacteristically early call, Obi-Wan leaned forward, pressed the button and warmly greeted the bright-eyed woman, already dressed in her formal Senatorial robes.

Explaining she was shortly to leave for the Senate and that she knew Obi-Wan was generally an early riser, more than likely awake and up, the petite Senator laughed as she said she'd been asked to check on the Jedi master.

"By Anakin?" he guessed, raising an eyebrow and grinning as he sat down at the com station. Padmé nodded, her face rather earnest now as if she wished to convey his padawan's concern both verbally and non-verbally.

"He was really quite concerned; he called me after he talked to you the other night and asked that I check on you. Anakin was worried about how you took his news." Her eyes searched his as if seeking to discern the truth behind whatever answer he might give.

Understanding dawned. He had reacted rather badly that night.

"I was thrown by his news of Aidus's death," he admitted. "However, I was able to release the shock into the Force shortly afterwards and you can tell Anakin so, if my padawan contacts you again."

He thought about making it a teasing comment, but didn't want to give the two any encouragement. He still wasn't sure what type of relationship they had, and at this point, preferred not to know, not as long as whatever form it took caused no problems for any of them.

Padmé's smile bloomed.

"I'll do so should I have the opportunity; Anakin is such a worrier when it comes to his master."

Laughing, Obi-Wan held up his hands in amused protest. "I thought I was the Jedi with the reputation for being the worrier around here; you have no idea how many times Qui-Gon told me to let go and let the future take care of itself."

"Be that as it may, your padawan does worry about you more than I think you realize; really, Obi-Wan – you must know he cares deeply for you!" She flashed him a mischievous smile. "We both should have guessed you would have handled it all right - Obi-Wan Kenobi, the consummate Jedi."

"Hardly that, merely old and experienced," he returned with a grin.

"Shave off that beard and you'd look young and still be experienced!"

"What is it with females and my beard?" He looked wounded, fingering it. "Siri – you remember Knight Tachi? - told me she wishes I had stayed clean-shaven – so of course, I grew it back. If you two mention it again, I shall let it grow down to my knees."

"Uh huh, and have to tie it into a long plait to keep it out of your way," she retorted merrily as Obi-Wan merely huffed and crossed his arms.

He was quite the lucky Jedi, he decided, even if he didn't believe in luck, to start his day so pleasantly – first with Siri, then in light banter with an old friend.

He should enjoy all this while he could for he knew this time couldn't last, this respite from war and toil. The day would come when he would have to set aside the man he had allowed himself to be in favor of the Jedi he needed to be. He would savor the time he had with Siri, for this time, as with all things, would inevitably pass. He knew this and acknowledged this, and did not allow himself to mourn it.

His relationship with Siri would evolve with life itself, their time together as lovers limited; soon to be rare and treasured moments away from a life that demanded much of them – a life both had pledged themselves to. Duty would always come first – in war, and post-war.

That duty would soon beckon, Obi-Wan had little doubt; he would return to war, Siri would go wherever duty next commanded her.

He was as certain of that as he was that the stars shone in the galaxy and planets rotated in their orbits. He had, however, to admit that one problem with certainty was that few other things were ever as certain as they seemed: things that seemed to run smoothly often hid a flaw that soon brought things to a sputtering halt at the most unexpected of times. What was certain one day was shifting sands the next.

If nothing else, a Jedi knew only that many things remained unknown, nothing ever stood still, and life was full of surprises, even for a Jedi sometimes given to visions of the future.

Hence a true Jedi did not overly worry about what was to come, but left it in the hands of the Force - just as he would his relationship with Siri. Regardless of whatever that future should happen to be, Siri would always remain in his heart, regardless of whether she was ever or rarely again in his arms.

Just as he would not worry about Anakin; he would entrust the Force with his padawan. It was a far better guardian of its own "Chosen One" than he.

Yet until Anakin returned safely, empty-handed or not, Obi-Wan could not help but let a small corner of his mind worry about the boy, even if that unease was relegated deep into his subconscious. It was the inevitable consequence of having a padawan, made worse by the fact his padawan was Anakin Skywalker.

And of his vision – that of the young and the old, those servants of the Force cut down by the forces of evil as his padawan stood fast against those who would profane the Light with Darkness – Obi-Wan would tuck that into a corner of his mind until a moment came when he could examine it and interpret it with Yoda's help. Always in motion was the future…that future did not necessarily have to come to pass.

For now – now he would remember Qui-Gon's words and live in the present, accept and enjoy the time he had with Siri and with the younglings and the initiates he so often visited and worked with.

He would make the most of this time, for as yet, duty had not deeply intruded on these last few days and nights, except in minute ways. Still on the inactive roster, Obi-Wan's days were filled with Council meetings, war strategy meetings and his cherished drop-ins on the initiates' classes, while Siri continued with her teaching duties.

With Anakin's extended absence, they filled their evenings getting together with old friends – Obi-Wan still hadn't found who had spilled the "impudent padawan" remarks to his padawan – and their nights in each other's arms.

But as both knew it would, it would all too soon be coming to an end. Careful not to overtax Obi-Wan's strength as he recovered, Siri always added a slight suggestion for a peaceful rest to her final good night kiss each evening, whether they spent the night together or not.

Most nights they did.

**

Up high, here, the wind whistled past ears that did not bother to register the shrieks; far too focused to hear the one shriek it hoped to hear – and did not.

With a slight shrug of disappointment, Anakin turned away from the edge, dangling his lightsaber from now limp fingers. It was over, finally over. The adrenaline was receding now that the battle was ended, but not the implacable determination.

It was one thing entirely to threaten Obi-Wan, one thing to nearly strip him of his sanity and his life.

Ventress had gone too far, though, in this latest threat. Some things just could not be allowed.

It was a pity, really, she hadn't suffered. Her death would have to do.

**

"Mas'er Obi, Mas'er Obi, we met your baby!"

Obi-Wan's steps faltered and he raised an eyebrow at the Crèche Master, understandably a bit startled at this pronouncement which greeted him upon his entry into the crèche. He was quite certain - positive in fact - he had no such thing.

"Master Daenar?" He hoped she would have an explanation that made sense. It had been a busy day and he'd been hoping to relax amongst Jedi younglings. Not that a crèche was a haven of quiet; it was usually controlled bedlam, full of shrieks of laughter and bright grins.

"My apologies, Master Kenobi." Daenar covered a grin with one hand and ruffled Caellya's hair. "We visited Master Tyndara's crèche to introduce these younglings to the newest crechlings. These little ones must have heard the two of us talking about you and young Ian when you visited Peds that time, and how you introduced him to your padawan – you know how stories like that get around."

Obi-Wan nodded, Jedi were no more or less immune to harmless gossip than any other beings.

"Oh, I suppose that explains that…." He hesitated; then settled on his heels before the little girl, wondering how best to explain why she should not refer to Ian, or any child, actually, as "his" child. No one child was his; his padawan came the closest to "his" – ah, perhaps that was the explanation he should offer.

"Ian's not mine, but a friend, like you but tinier. It would be inaccurate – wrong - to call him 'my baby.' Should the Council hear such a thing, I'm afraid I would have quite a lot of explaining to do."

"You mean he isn't your baby, Mas'er Obi?" A disappointed little girl screwed up her face in disappointment.

The Jedi laughed and stood. "No more than _you_ are my youngling!" He swung her under one arm, tickling her as she squirmed with laughter. "All of us are family in the ways that count, all the way from Master Yoda to little Ian."

A tiny pout was followed by a delighted grin as Caellya accepted that declaration with one of her one, a most triumphant one. "So then I _am_ your youngling!"

"So am I; me, too!" Other younglings joined in the chorus.

Obi-Wan looked around all the bright young faces, and realized it was true. They really were all his, in a way. His family. In the corner of his eye he could see Master Daenar smiling at him.

"I guess you all are, in a manner of speaking. So, who wants to hear a story?"

So it was that a distinguished Jedi master, member of the Jedi Council, gathered his children round him and told an exciting story of brave knights battling to save the beleaguered. Over the years he'd found simplified and embellished stories of true missions were just as exciting as any story he could dream up, not to mention subtly reinforcing the call to service that was a Jedi's duty.

In a room of happy Jedi, the happiest was the Jedi master surrounded by younglings.


	35. A Rude Awakening

**Chapter 35. Another Rude Awakening**

A Jedi grumbled at the shortness of the nights; groped for wakefulness and the alarm at the same time. A sleepy frown marked his confusion at being unable to stretch out his arm, followed by a grin as he realized what held him in place.

He yawned, for he might be going to bed a bit earlier than normal but he was not getting any more sleep – and it was still dark, early in the morning, much too early to wake. He carefully disentangled himself. Siri tended to fall asleep with her arms around him and her head tucked under his chin, and he hadn't as yet nudged her away.

He did so now.

The chime sounded once more. It was not, as he had thought, the alarm.

An utterly content and sleepy Jedi thought about ignoring the comcall until his mind slowly groped into an understanding that the caller wanted to speak to him, not leave a message, however reluctant he was to slide away from the warm body at his side. Siri stirred slightly and Obi-Wan pressed a soft kiss against her cheek as he slid out of bed, shivering slightly as cool air met bare skin. He immediately saw it was Anakin and came wide-awake, throwing his robe around him as he moved into the common room to take the call there.

_Why does that boy always call at night_? he wondered, thinking of the warm bed waiting for him and fighting back a sigh. Composing his face into one of quiet inquiry, he activated the link.

"Padawan, I really wish you would report in more often. Are you okay? Have you news of Ventress?"

*

The padawan took in the rumpled hair and casually slipped on robe and sighed. He really shouldn't interrupt his master's sleep; the man was still recovering and needed plenty of it to recover. Since he was again using the common room com station, it was obvious he was trying to disguise the fact that Anakin had woken him.

"Sorry to wake you again, Master and yes, I - have news."

"Good – shall I send a team to capture Ventress, or have you already done that without waiting for backup as instructed?"

Since there was no reprimand, only a sighing acknowledgement that Anakin would do what he would do, Anakin half smiled, but he looked tired in the shifting light of a hologram, and hesitated before answering. Padmé had assured him Obi-Wan had quickly recovered from his first report; Anakin hoped he would take this news better.

Obi-Wan shifted and straightened at his hesitation; his master's stoic Jedi mask slid into place, prompting Anakin to blurt straight out his news without further preamble.

"Master, she's dead. She'll never bother you again. She's dead. I killed her."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened, then his shoulders slumped forward as he covered his eyes with his hand and was silent. Anakin could offer no comfort; he could only wait and watch, and hope Obi-Wan quickly recovered from the shock.

*

His initial disbelief was quickly tempered by sorrow and regret.

Dead? Ventress was dead?

The Jedi master closed his eyes as the realization sank in, glad he was sitting down; it saved him from buckling at the knees. Dead! He had been all but certain that the Force wished him, on its behalf, to help her find her way to light. Redemption and forgiveness were beyond her now.

She was dead, like Aidus before her. Dead – yet even dead, he wasn't sure she would never haunt his dreams again.

"I – see." His words were soft, even to himself. He blinked and let his voice grow stronger as he gathered the Force about him.

"Dead? This – distresses me, but, I know how dangerous she was and I did not expect you to not to protect yourself. Still, I am sorry she is dead – I wished for her to know something besides evil in her life."

He had hoped for understanding when he raised his eyes to meet Anakin's, but the sorrow he felt was not reflected there.

Anakin's eyes had only grown hard and his voice clipped. "Don't mourn her, Master; she was a danger, to us all. To you. As long as she lived I would worry about her pursuing you and the next time possibly killing you. You are better off with her dead. Her death was necessary."

Obi-Wan spoke more sharply than he intended, but Anakin's words worried him. "I am never 'better off' because someone died, Padawan. You err if that is your assumption."

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. "Very well, return to Coruscant right away to present your report if you're not ready to transmit it yet. I don't need the details now; I will pass on this information to the Council tomorrow. Have a safe journey, my padawan, and may the Force be with you."

Anakin studied him a moment, apparently still concerned, then nodded sharply as if reassured and signed off. Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his chin, not sure what emotion predominated: relief that Anakin was safe or regret that Ventress lived no longer.

A pair of arms came around his neck as he switched the comlink off. "I heard, Obi-Wan. Are you okay? You're shivering, come back to bed where it's warm," Siri urged, wrapping the Force around him as she wrapped her arms around him.

Instead, he leaned back against her, reaching up to pat her hands with his.

"I'm fine, Siri, I'm fine except - Ventress will never have a chance to know the light of the Force now." His words were soft and sad as he twisted his head around to look up at her. "At least Anakin is safe for which I am most grateful." With a little shake of his head, he stood up and curled a hand around one of Siri's as she led him back to bed.

After tucking Siri in, he sat down next to her and stared off into the distance.

*

Siri propped herself up one elbow and rubbed his back with the other hand, feeling the tension in his muscles. The scars were gone now, the skin smooth to her fingers and he no longer flinched when touched unexpectedly. He was essentially whole again, but his mind was still troubled, obviously.

"If you're truly fine, what then bothers you, Obi-Wan? Anakin is right, she was a danger, and we're all safer now."

Obi-Wan finally looked at her. "I don't like Anakin's casual attitude towards her death. 'Necessary.' That woman died never having known anything but pain. Such a waste."

"She was too far gone to see the light, wasn't she? Truthfully? You think by redeeming her you can redeem yourself, don't you, even though you have nothing to reproach yourself for."

"You didn't hear her when I took her master's lightsaber – see her eyes," he replied, finally. He passed a hand over his chin, wondering how to explain. It wasn't for himself he had wanted her. It was for the Anakin who might have been, the Ventress who had come to be. In the end, it came down to one simple truth.

"She hadn't been consumed by the dark side. There was a chance for her."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan." Strangely, she was. Sorry for the woman who had almost killed the man she loved, and sorry for the woman whom that man thought salvageable Sorry for Obi-Wan, who even now mourned her, the woman responsible for brutalizing him.

For several minutes they sat there, Siri kneading Obi-Wan's shoulder and neck until she felt him relax under her hands.

"You can worry about it tomorrow; tonight, just get back under the covers and sleep, okay love?" She brushed a kiss against his neck, slipping her arms under his and reaching up to clasp the front of his shoulders as she leaned into him.

*

"Okay," and a crooked grin slowly broke over his face as he fought free of his regrets that a woman as full of pain as Ventress had never had a chance to know the light. Anakin didn't understand, neither did Siri. They only saw his pain and suffering as etched on his body. He had seen the same, etched in Ventress's soul.

Siri's concern washed over him, a soft caress against his mind, and the best way to alleviate that with her was with teasing.

"You did rather wear me out earlier," he said, leaning over her and planting a firm kiss on her lips before settling in. He reached a finger over and brushed it against her lips.

"Maybe again… in the morning." He grinned slyly at her and winked.

Siri pressed in against him and threw an arm across him as one of his curled around her. She was soon asleep, but it was some time before Obi-Wan drifted off. The eyes of a child – a young Ventress – terrified and grief-stricken – continued to blaze in his mind's eye, even with eyelids closed.

**

"Put all you went through behind you have, strong once more in the Force," Yoda grunted after a Council meeting as he and Obi-Wan left together. "Sense a quiet contentment in you, I do. At peace in the Force you are now."

"My captivity is all but behind me now," Obi-Wan said. "I admit Anakin's calls, coming at night unexpectedly disturbed me, but other than that I've been free of disturbing memories for a while now. Now that both Aidus and Ventress are dead…I guess there's nothing to bring it all back up. The mind healers have given me their full release as well."

"Good, that is good," Yoda said. "Yet soon back in battle you will be; such contentment can't last."

"We're Jedi. We practice serenity; we don't live it," Obi-Wan returned dryly. "Duty has always called us away. We, as always, serve others."

"Yes, yes, that is so. Knew I did that encouraging you to follow your heart with 'Master' Tachi would not interfere with your devotion to duty and to the Force. Tell her, shall you?"

It had been one of the day's agenda items. Several padawans were to be allowed to take the trials and Knight Tachi was to be granted the rank of master.

"It is not my place to tell her," Obi-Wan returned, surprised. "It is either Master Windu's as head of the Council or Master Gallia as her former master."

"Or yours as her lover," Yoda chortled, as a faint blush spread over Obi-Wan's face.

"Neuro-biochemical processes 'akin to physical bonding' as Healer Neille delicately put it, is that which restored your midis. A Force bond you have as well; will of the Force for you together to be. Glad I am that my advice you followed, sought comfort in her arms. Healed you are, happy and at peace, yet no less the Jedi than ever you were. Right I was." His stick reached out and gently tapped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "But no making out in speeders like your padawan when the age of consent he reached."

"Oh, Force," Obi-Wan said almost inaudibly. He gulped; how many knew of Anakin's obviously public indiscretion? He relaxed as he realized had knowledge of this been wide spread, it would have somehow been all over the Holonet.

"Tried manfully he did, but no control he had. Took pity on him, used the Force to drop him at his quarters and sent young lady home to her master as well, I did."

That night, the age of his majority!

His padawan had been rather – rumpled – as if he had been, rather literally, caught with his pants down and not given much time to make himself presentable. That half-delighted, half-ashamed grin along with the swagger in his Force signature had made Anakin of a mind to lecture his master on the delights of maturity before his excess of celebratory intoxicants had made him more of a mind to get rather well acquainted with a porcelain bowl rather than a female.

Rather to his master's relief.

"A few flings your padawan managed to have, not serious were they so allowed they were. Prefer not to interfere I do unless necessary. Turned a blind eye we did to Tahl and Qui-Gon; discreet they were and their relationship within bounds, until the very end." Yoda sighed, his ears curling under, before his eyes crinkled with hidden amusement.

He nudged at Obi-Wan's ankle with his stick, just a nudge that Obi-Wan didn't bother to dodge as they seated themselves on a bench in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a preferred place to converse for both. "Know about them, did you?"

Obi-Wan grinned, remembering his embarrassment at his master's matter-of-fact – and short – talk with him when the truth had come out.

"I think I was fifteen or sixteen or so when I figured the two of them out and when he realized that, I got a lecture on the need for a Jedi to separate pleasure from the emotions of it along with a firm admonition that I was too young to even be thinking of such things. Having no such thoughts, I think I just gaped at him; then he ruffled my hair like I was a youngling and told me to do my homework and avoid females for a few years more."

His amusement faded as he thought of the consequences of that relationship: the pain and the grief that had nearly consumed his master upon Tahl's death. Had it been a natural death, it might not have torn Qui-Gon so apart. He had been so helpless: a bystander to all that pain in that dark night of the soul that threatened his master's very being.

"Had you as an anchor he did," Yoda nodded. "Much like you had Siri as you faced the darkness so recently yourself."

Obi-Wan blinked and slowly shook his head. "I was of no comfort to Qui-Gon. I could only then serve as a reminder of what he lost and why; it was my injury that slowed us down. It was perhaps fortunate he barely knew I existed for some time, so lost was he."

He had so desperately wished he could help Qui-Gon; he could offer nothing the man needed or wanted. Yearning to help, all he could do was watch and worry as grief scrawled across Qui-Gon's soul.

"Found his way, he did, with your help."

"No, with the Force's help," Obi-Wan corrected, still thankful even after all these years that something – anything - had finally assuaged his master's pain.

"With the help of the Living Force, yes," Yoda agreed, tilting his head to one side as he peered thoughtfully at the younger Jedi. "Looked inward Qui-Gon did, but the Force was stronger than his grief, powered as it was by his padawan's concern, his friends – the memory of Tahl herself. Dragged him even deeper into his heart did the Force until he saw again love: that of Tahl who would not wish him to follow the path he was on – and of those yet living that remained at his side to comfort him."

A little sigh escaped Obi-Wan's lips. Had not the thoughts of and the memory of those he cared for given him the strength to battle the mask? Yet he had not faced the same pain as his master; on Rattatuk he battled evil, not grief.

Could he withstand the loss of those near and dear to him, of Siri, of Anakin, especially if torn from him by evil? "I am not as strong as Qui-Gon…."

His words were not so soft that Yoda did not hear.

"Fear you might follow a similar path, you do?" The ancient master's eyes widened with surprise; he sighed and leaned forward, patting Obi-Wan's hand. "Unlike your master, strong you are in the Unifying Force, balanced. Thoughts of future consequences shall as always stay your hand even if the pain felt in the Living Force urges you to action, should such a situation ever arise. Be vigilant, Obi-Wan, but do not be afraid to love. Loss we all suffer, yet our very losses are the Force's gain and thus not a loss at all. Know this you do, deep within. Protect you this knowledge will as well."

Had he not affirmed that very knowledge before the funeral pyres?

Obi-Wan folded his arms within his sleeves and slowly nodded. The ability to see the wider repercussions of his actions or lack of had always separated him from Qui-Gon, who tended to see only the here and now.

Had the knowledge of how close to the edge grief had driven him been the catalyst for his master's even greater grasp onto the Living Force and his insistence that his padawan follow as best he could?

"The Force showed him what he had left, and what awaited him regardless of which path he followed," Yoda murmured as if he had discerned the younger man's train of thought. "Chose, Qui-Gon did, to interpret what he was shown in the context of what he knew best. Not incorrect he was, yet the sum he missed."

"So you're saying –"

"That love drove Qui-Gon nearly to the dark, yes; that a greater love saved Qui-Gon; a love for all that you do not have to seek for within you it has always dwelt whether you have known it or not. Let love go you can, because inside you know it cannot truly go except into the Force, and thus it remains within you for all time."

Obi-Wan nodded mutely; while his mind was somewhat eased with Yoda's words, he also knew he would never truly know the consequences of his love, whether for Siri, his padawan, or truly, anyone, until he was forced to face the loss of that love.

Was that the purpose of his vision, if a vision it had truly been?

If not a vision of a possible future, could it have been a warning to face and acknowledge his heart – to see it as both a strength and a weakness? Perhaps – or perhaps it was only a remnant of the nightmares only thought vanquished, triggered by the reminder of the impermanence of mortal life as he had stood before the flames.

"Doubt me do you – or yourself?" Yoda peered at him thoughtfully before leaning forward and tapping the younger Jedi's knee. "Know your heart and mind almost better than you, I do. Doubt _me_ not. Always I have seen in you what you are now discovering in yourself since your release and recovery from captivity. Your heart, Obi-Wan, trust it; your strength and a gift of the Force it is when in balance with your mind."

"Not _my_ heart alone," he murmured. It was the hearts of all those he held within him that had saved him – Qui-Gon, Anakin, Bant – Siri. It was they who strengthened him. His strength was not his own and never had been.

He was never alone: yes, he had the Force, but he had so much more than that as well. When he faltered, he had someone – he had always had someone.

He cleared his throat, still somewhat reticent to speak of what he felt deeply, covered by a hint of mischief that sparked in his eyes "Love…Master Yoda, love was the weapon that freed me from that mask."

"Ah, know that now you do." Yoda nodded, as if he had known all along. Obi-Wan tilted his head questioningly. He had never really spoken of how he had defeated the mask except to Siri – he hadn't even known the truth himself until just recently.

Yoda waved a clawed hand in slight amusement. "Gleaned much I did through the Force. Speak we must still of both your victory over the mask and your vision; after you meditate on my words."

"Yes, Master."

Perhaps it was the touch of cheekiness in his reply that had Yoda grunting noncommittally at him. Obi-Wan knew the accompanying look well; he had used it on his own padawan. Now he rather felt like the padawan.

Yoda softened his gaze, though his voice was still solemn. It was the voice he used when imparting a lesson no Jedi dared not heed.

"Remember, Obi-Wan, remember this well: love can be a two-edged sword, but wielded in the hands of one who loves unselfishly, it has the power to defeat the dark. It has done so once; it can do so once more."

The two Jedi locked gazes: one very earnest and one somewhat dazed.

"Your strength, Obi-Wan, you must remember that. Save us all it yet may."

Had he really heard Yoda correctly? Had he really meant to imply – that Obi-Wan… the Jedi shook his head in disbelief, certain he had mistaken the implication of those words as Yoda nodded ever so gently at him.

He just hoped he would have the strength that Yoda seemed to believe he had – and wonder why Yoda seemed to subtly emphasize love as if it were a weapon Obi-Wan might someday wield.


	36. To Know Oneself is to Master Oneself

**Chapter 36. To Know Oneself is to Master Oneself**

Wondering why Obi-Wan had feigned ignorance regarding any knowledge of why she had been summoned to appear this day before the Council, Siri took a breath as she waited for the doors to open. It wasn't a mission or a change in her duties; that much she knew. Sometimes that gundark-for-brains Kenobi could be awfully close-mouthed; he could be as irritating in his own way as the always-cryptic Yoda.

Patience, she reminded herself. A Jedi was calm and patient. Patient! _Gah_!

A faint sense of amusement came through the bond she now shared with Obi-Wan.

_Eavesdropper_, she accused. Even without the visual, she _felt_ Obi-Wan squirm and stifle a grunt of surprise as she sent a Force pinch to his posterior. She smiled in satisfaction, not at all ashamed of herself.

At least the byplay had taken the edge off her impatience, probably something Obi-Wan had intended all along. He knew what was coming, even if she didn't, even if he had pretended ignorance.

The summons itself had come the night before, as she and Obi-Wan had been socializing with Bant and a few other Jedi. Other than a wrinkle of curiosity on a face or two, no one had bothered to speculate, shrugging it off like the good, obedient little Jedi they were.

Not to be outdone, Siri had only acknowledged receipt of the message and remained quiet, though not without a speculative look or two at Obi-Wan over the course of the evening, looks he pretended not to seen though she knew better. Had there been real vibroshives shooting from her eyes, Bant would have hauled him off to the Healers Ward where'd he still be recovering.

It was not until later that evening, standing side by side on a Temple balcony, looking first at the sinking sun then out over the lights of the planet that she had voiced her questions.

"_Do you know anything about the Council summons?" she asked Obi-Wan, who merely looked mysterious, quirking an eyebrow at her._

"_You know Council summons may not always be with the full knowledge of the entire Council," was all he would say, but something in his face told her he knew full well why and wasn't about to violate any confidences. She couldn't even sense if it was something good, bad, or merely routine._

_She was almost tempted to try to get Obi-Wan to speak in private later, but she respected his vow of confidentiality enough to restrain herself. If Obi-Wan had been free to speak to her, speak he would. _

_Sometimes it made life difficult to hold to principles. Life would be much easier without them. _

_She sighed and leaned against the balcony railing, turning her attention to the now flaming sky. The night was mild and the lights sparkled after a brief rain shower earlier. _

"_Bah,' she murmured, and lightly smacked Obi-Wan's arm. He turned and looked at her, manfully hiding his amusement._

"_I really thought you'd try to wheedle information out of me," Obi-Wan whispered in her ear as he stood beside her, holding her hand, concealed by their robes. "Not that I have any particularly, you understand, but the Siri Tachi I grew up with was somewhat impatient."_

"_I only want what you can give," she responded, seriously, turning her head. "That is our boundary, is it not? To take what is given and ask for nothing? Once either of us asks something of the other, for our own sake, that is when we part to be friends, only."_

_Seeming to ignore her statement, Obi-Wan studied her; then asked in all seriousness, "Then why did you drag me out here to watch the sunset? You've never done so before."_

"_Because it makes you happy and I want to make you happy."_

"_I see." He grinned at her. "Well, seeing as you're a woman who prefers to do rather than watch, let's go inside. Perhaps there's something we can do together that makes you happy."_

"_Great – you know how much I love to spar." Her voice was teasing. "Okay, show me what you've got."_

"_Bet now that I'm healthy I can take you two out of three." He smirked, and mimicked, "It usually takes longer to defeat the esteemed Council member. We'll see about that, Tachi." _

_They shook on it and headed for an empty training salle._

**

At the appointed time, the doors to the Council chamber swung open and Siri stepped forward into the speakers circle and bowed. Seven Council members faced her in person, three via hologram, including her former master.

Involuntarily, her eyes slid to Obi-Wan, to her left. He was slightly leaning back in his seat, a posture indicative of nothing.

Were he totally relaxed he might have one leg crossed over the other and an eyebrow quirked at her. Were he tense, his mouth might tighten a fraction and he would sit straight, pressed into his seat.

Ahead of her, Yoda and Mace both gazed calmly at her. Further to her left, Adi's blue form shimmered, making her hard to read. The other Council members betrayed nothing.

"Knight Tachi, the Council has been evaluating members of the Order on their skill and knowledge of the Force. We have granted several padawans the right to take the Trials, and have moved to the next step. I should like to ask Master Gallia to expound on this," Mace said quietly, and nodded to Adi's form.

"Siri Tachi, my padawan, Knight Tachi. It is with great pleasure that I announce your promotion. You have made your master proud, Master Tachi."

_Master! _Summoning all her will power, Siri bowed before the Council. "I am honored, Master, Masters of the Council."

"We shall take a short recess to congratulate the newest Master of the Order," Mace declared. Yoda was the first to approach her, his wizened old face creased in a gentle smile, Mace at his side offering his own personal congratulations. Plo Koon nodded to her, his mask hiding his expression, then Obi-Wan was in front of her.

"Congratulations, Siri." As she playfully scowled at him, he raised his hands in defense and stepped back. "Hey, I was just released from medical supervision not long ago," he growled as the amusement of several of his colleagues colored the Force.

"You certainly keep secrets, don't you?" she hissed for his ears alone.

He leaned forward and whispered back. "Yoda said as your lover I had the right, but I wouldn't deny Adi that pleasure."

He stepped back, smiling pleasantly as Siri fought to restrain a deep blush. The look she shot at him clearly indicated he was going to pay for that remark later.

She was waiting for him after the session when the elevator from the Council spire reached the Grand Hallway.

"Master Tachi," he said warily, noting the gleam in her eye.

"Master Kenobi. You gundark! What was that about Yoda - and you as my lover!"

"Relax, Siri," he said quietly. He headed down the hallway with Siri marching right along with him. "Yoda knows, Mace, Adi, too for that matter. Since they encouraged us, I'm not surprised. Yoda was teasing me that as your lover I had the right to inform you, but as you know that right is reserved for the Head of the Council or the knight's master."

"What was that about evaluating skills – for Force's sake, why now? You – you wouldn't…," she searched for the words she wanted to say, as inoffensively as possible.

Obi-Wan's mouth tightened and then relaxed, quickly picking up her confusion and understanding what she was having trouble expressing.

"They started seriously evaluating you when you returned to the Temple. I had very little say in the matter; I was away most of that time. Yoda especially spent some time with you while I was a captive, from what I understand and he was your strongest proponent."

_Oh, when he had been suffering so horribly in captivity_. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to sound like…the timing was just - I didn't know what to think."

Obi-Wan stopped and faced her. She reached out tentatively and brushed against his Force presence. "I never doubted you, just myself, I guess."

Much to her relief, Obi-Wan smiled suddenly and she felt him brush back against her own Force presence. "I can understand that. That's how I felt myself, upon reflection when they told me I was promoted to knight. I wondered why; I hadn't faced the Trials, I had touched and even briefly used the dark side and I had failed to protect my master, not to mention alienating the very boy I had made a deathbed promise to take as my padawan. It's a wonder I didn't collapse from all the stress and fear strangling me."

"You never told me all that," was all Siri could think to say, dumbfounded. Obi-Wan Kenobi: to be seated on the Council at his age was rare. It was in recognition of his wisdom and his skill with the Force, it was an honor not lightly granted and not given to those who hadn't earned the respect of their peers.

He nodded in agreement and resumed walking. "How could I admit all that and make it all too real? I was full of grief that I didn't dare express, I had Anakin and all his confusion to deal with, and I was uncertain of many things I thought I should not be uncertain of. The Council deemed me ready – how could I say I thought they were wrong. One of the few things I could count on, that got me through those initial doubts, were my friends, meditation, and those nights you just sat with me."

He put an arm around her shoulders and quickly squeezed; an affectionate gesture that would raise no eyebrows should anyone be watching.

"Let's find our friends and you can tell them the news. We'll have a little celebration, okay?"

"Mmm, okay." Pleasure faded into a sad wistfulness as she thought of Reeft, so long away, Garen…. "I wish all our friends could be here, Obi-Wan."

From the look in his eyes, he was in perfect agreement.

*

Obi-Wan nodded; he missed his padawan as well as their friends. Missing those absent was a luxury granted by the circumstances of his limited Temple duty; a luxury he rarely had time to indulge in.

"As do I. It's part of the price we pay for being Jedi." His thoughts turned to the many Jedi he knew, lost to the war, to Jayren, never again the same, Terzah, Caellya and Ian – what price would the following generations pay?

He sighed, only the Force was in a position to answer that question, not a Jedi.

"Ever since we all became padawans, we rarely have had much time together, all of us at once. We chose this life, Siri – the good, the bad, and the sacrifices. When all is said and done, I would choose no differently."

Siri touched his cheek and asked, "Even that terrible ordeal – is it worth that, on balance?"

The answer came without thought, for it was a question he had asked and answered some time ago for himself. Every experience had lessons to teach, if one looked for them. He nodded to himself, yes; even the most painful ordeal left something of value behind.

"From Bandomeer I gained my master, from Melida/Daan an understanding of myself, and from Naboo I gained knighthood and Anakin. From Jabiim, I found my heart. I have you, and I doubt I would have otherwise. For each sacrifice, I have also gained something of value, so in balance, all that suffering I endured was worth it."

He stopped and looked at her. Everything he felt was expressed in three simple words; wonder, awe and love intertwined, no matter how soft the tone. "I have you."

If two Jedi walked side by side down the hallway, neither one speaking nor looking at the other, it would not be apparent to any other Jedi that behind shielded thoughts, two Force presences were dancing in tandem.

**

As with all things in life, nothing remained the same. Life ebbed and life flowed, shaping and reshaping into different patterns. Two Jedi were well aware of that, this night, for after this night any time together would be fleeting and stolen moments in a life dedicated to the service of others.

Despite the separation both knew lay ahead, both knew as well that with the bond between them they could never truly be separate.

Siri was the first to acknowledge this in words as she finally stirred and brushed a finger across Obi-Wan's upper lip, a gesture both tender and simple.

"You're awfully quiet, Kenobi," she whispered as Obi-Wan rubbed her back with one hand. The other twirled through her hair.

"Anakin will be back today." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tucked against his shoulder. "Reality begins in the morning. No more waking up beside you."

"Yeah?" Siri tilted her head to look at him, reached a hand up to stroke his chin as one reached further down and rested on his stomach. "Bet it's the activity beforehand you'll miss the most."

"Would it surprise you if I said no?" His arms tightened around her and he smiled down at her upturned face. "Just holding you is such a gift – having you beside me to smile at – wakening up to the sound of your snoring – ouch!"

"For that you can have your padawan back."

"I'd rather kiss you," and he promptly proceeded to shift position in order to do so thoroughly. Breaking contact, he raised himself up to one elbow above her and stared down at her. He looked suddenly serious. "You do love me, don't you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Siri countered suspiciously. "Does a girl have to love someone to sleep with him?"

She was startled when Obi-Wan seemed to give her comment serious consideration. Eventually a small grin played across his face, but it was clearly a cover for deep emotion.

"She has to love him if all shields go down when they make love. She has to love him if some nights she just sleeps at his side just to wake up next to him the next morning. She has to love him –"

"—if he constantly takes up more than half the bed –"

"—and she takes more than half the blanket –"

"—and he sometimes kisses her during the night though he thinks she's asleep—"

"—and she gives him a sleep suggestion with her good night kiss so he'll sleep soundly."

They both paused, laughing this time.

"Okay, okay – point made," Siri conceded.

"Good thing, because if you didn't – I need to say this, even at the risk of, er, losing my lightsaber. Siri – I couldn't have come through this without you – you gave me something to fight through the nightmares for – then and afterwards. I owe you more than you'll ever know. Thank you."

"Aw, Kenobi." Siri was so touched, she blinked back a tear or two as her hand gently caressed Obi-Wan's cheek. "Don't shortchange yourself. You did the work; the rest of us only offered what help we could. Thank you for coming back to us. No matter what happens in the future, we'll always have this and I wouldn't trade these past weeks for anything."

The next second her lips were caught in a kiss that took Siri's breath away – a kiss worthy of such romantic drivel as _Beyond Forever_, the holovid both had ridiculed. Suddenly, "hungry for your kisses" seemed to define this moment.

She fell back against the pillow as Obi-Wan caught his own breath. Before she could beckon him closer, a smile crossed his face as he leaned on an elbow, gently tracing the outlines of her face.

"I'll miss waking up next to you, but even when we're not together, we won't be separated for we will always be together where it really counts, here, inside."

Their bond connected them now, warm and gentle. It felt different than the master/padawan bond, but just as comforting.

"Yeah, Kenobi, and I'm sure we can steal a few nights once in a while."

"Once in a while," Obi-Wan agreed. He smiled impishly, "It'll give me something to dream about during those long campaigns, sleeping in a wet tent trying to persuade myself that I'm perfectly warm and comfortable as I lay there shivering."

They looked at each other then, really looked, drinking in the sight of the other, serious. Finally, a soft smile broke Siri's face and she wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan, pulling him to her. "Come here, then, so we can make the most of what time we do have."

He resisted for just a minute, for he had a need to say this first, before there was no need for words.

"You are my heart, Siri."

"Then I got the better deal, for you are mine, Obi-Wan."


	37. Closing the Circle

**Chapter 37. The Circle is Complete**

Obi-Wan stood wrapped in his cloak, waiting in the Temple hangar. Little had changed, yet much had, since he had stood here last.

He had returned in ill health, battered and worn, barely able to connect to the Force. He now stood healthy and restored to the Force in full measure.

He had returned feeling unworthy of the Force and the regard of his companions. He now stood centered and equanimity restored.

He had returned with his heart freed yet still bound to his mind and duty, still believing love had to be denied. He now stood, having known love expressed and returned.

The past had come full circle and he now knew who he was, not just what he was, and he had accepted that. He knew what was important to him, and while that included Siri, he was not hers and she was not his.

They had become lovers by accepting their love, but in some ways, little had changed.

They still bickered and teased, yet now they could sit side by side with arms entwined just openly enjoying each other's company. As stimulating as were their nights, the best part was waking up side by side. They had quickly grown comfortable with each other, and in truth, little had changed except their open acknowledgement of their feelings.

They had always been friends, and even now, the foundation of their newfound relationship was friendship. Should they ever find themselves growing attached and thus decide to part, they would part as friends.

They would now both be resuming their normal lives, stealing time together when they could, happy with what they had rather than regretting what they had not. They had accepted that as the price they would have to pay for any time together. So it was with both resignation and relief that Obi-Wan waited in the hangar for his padawan's return.

Anakin might be nearing knighthood, but he wasn't a knight yet. Little remained for him to learn; only the mastery of self that came with maturity and determination. When that time came, the master knew he would have to learn to let go his concern for his padawan.

_Who are you kidding, Kenobi_? He doubted such was possible for any master who had raised an apprentice from child to adult, from padawan to knight.

He smiled as he saw the approaching ship, his concerns swept aside.

At long last he could release his anxiety and worry into the Force, rather than discarding it only to have it whip back at him.

He admitted it: he had feared for Anakin.

He had feared Anakin's emotions would lead him astray, cause him to lose crucial concentration in any encounter with Asajj Ventress. He had feared for Anakin, because he knew how formidable an opponent she was. Anakin was still a Jedi padawan and no matter how strong he was with the Force, he was no master, let alone knight, yet.

The worry and anxiety were mainly distractions, set aside as required, but he knew now his emotions no longer would remain buried quite so deep within him.

Emotions – joy, love, happiness - had helped him defeat the mask and hold back the darkness that had threatened to snuff out the light; the love, friendship and help so freely given to him by so many who had helped him recover from such a traumatic experience, had, by necessity, lessened his need to hold onto such control of them.

He now knew that emotions were necessary: emotions in tandem with the mind, guiding, but not controlling, something to be acknowledged but not allowed to dominate one's actions. He had learned once more the value of the Living Force aligned with the Unifying Force: they worked best, together, teamed – in balance.

In the Force, this time, a ghost smiled: his padawan had learned how to be whole in the Force while still alive.

Now the real battle for the Chosen One would begin: the Guardian had full access to all the tools he would need. Only time would prove if they were sufficient to counter the opposing darkness that sang to a part of the Chosen One – would light or dark claim the Chosen One's heart, and thus determine destiny?

**

A strong wind whipped Obi-Wan's cloak around him as he waited for the battered starfighter to land and cycle off its engine. Finally the canopy opened and the pilot, looking equally as battered, slowly clambered out.

Slowly – not the enthused and easy jump he was used to seeing, and Obi-Wan felt his heart clench. He hadn't seen his padawan move like that since Geonosis, when the bright spirit had been so tarnished by both physical and spiritual wounds.

What wounds troubled him now?

Whatever they were, Anakin would hide in silence, still unwilling to share his burdens with his master, burdens that Obi-Wan could not shoulder, but would have been willing to lighten. He no longer offered; he had been rebuffed too many times.

_Oh, my padawan, why do you not allow your master to help you along your path?_

"Master!" The smile came easily, and suddenly the young and enthusiastic padawan was back, as if the sight of his master standing there tall and healthy invigorated him. The crossed arm posture merely made his grin impudent. "Am I in for a lecture before I've even made it into the Temple proper?"

Startled, Obi-Wan realized he looked less than welcoming, huddled in his cloak. He let his grin break through the solemnity of his face and took a step forward to lay a hand on Anakin's arm in greeting.

"No lecture. Upset, no, worried, yes. I thought you looked exhausted a minute ago."

His padawan merely shrugged uncomfortably, looking just a bit ill at ease, perhaps uncertain. "Oh, I just didn't know what to expect. I know you wanted Ventress captured, but Master – she's never going to hurt you again."

The look in his eyes made Obi-Wan wonder if he had ever given Qui-Gon such a look; he hoped so, because it was so openly indicative of affection and concern. He hoped his eyes now reflected feelings of the same back to his padawan. Before he could express his thoughts, in gesture or words, Anakin continued on, ever so earnestly.

"You're safe from her now. I protected you from her, because she was never going to give up. I swear she hated you more than she hated me when I caught up to her."

"The price of my 'safety' would have been too high had you been killed," Obi-Wan said quietly, tightening his grasp on his padawan's arm. "I still think the risk was too high, but you came back in one piece I see. You are a great source of pride to me, my padawan, and my relief knows no bounds at your safe return."

*

The pride and dissipating worry in his master's eyes almost stopped Anakin in his tracks when their eyes met. Obi-Wan spoke so rarely of what he demonstrated with a gesture or look.

He would not be so proud if the truth were spoken.

So many truths had to be hidden; Anakin managed a tiny smile in response. How he wished to unburden himself at times like this – but he couldn't stand to see Obi-Wan turn away from him. He would see only the darkness, not the love that prompted it – and see in it what he would consider his own failing as a master.

Anakin could not bear to tarnish that pure spirit, nor diminish himself in his master's eyes. As long as Obi-Wan respected him, loved him, was proud of him, he could still become the Jedi he was meant to be, the one he was not yet.

He would do anything to protect his loved ones, even compromise his soul, for it was with the purest of motives: love.

The venom in Ventress's voice as she swore she would kill Obi-Wan "next time" had unleashed Anakin's anger as it had with Aidus. He had known then that Obi-Wan would never be safe as long as Ventress was alive. Then, when she revealed her knowledge of Anakin's love for Padme and cheapened it to mere lust, insulted his angel by calling her a "Jedi play toy" and threatened to kill her slowly and painfully only to torment Anakin, he had gone over the edge.

Ventress's fate was sealed with those words: she would die that day.

She had made it easy for him to kill her by attacking him. He had his excuse and he would give no quarter. Ventress would die this day, were she on her knees and begging for mercy.

Guileless blue eyes smiled, trying to break the crinkled frown on his master's face following his own preoccupied half-smile back at his master's praise.

Killing Ventress was not near the transgression that killing the Sand People had been. Then he had killed innocents as well as the guilty, but Ventress was no innocent. She had robbed his master of his vitality and peace, had nearly shorn him of his life. That was not just disposing of an enemy, but of protecting life – his master's life, and even more importantly, his wife's.

Ventress deserved to die for what she did to Obi-Wan, but she deserved to suffer first for what she threatened to do to Padmé.

He had but one regret: he had not made her suffer. She had died cleanly, wrapped in the cable and had plunged stories to her death when he sliced it.

He would have preferred to slice off her hands, one finger at a time, so her hands couldn't grasp the vibroblade she would have used on Padmé's soft and tender flesh, seared her mouth shut after kicking out her teeth so she couldn't spout such ugly epithets ever again, perhaps stabbed his lightsaber through her heart so she might finally know the light that his master wanted her to feel before she died in the only way such as she could.

Her death would have to satisfy him. And Obi-Wan would see it was for the best, and he would come to be satisfied, for he would realize that his secret was safe. No one would ever know.

At least Obi-Wan was safe now. Neither Ventress nor Aidus would ever touch him again; no one would ever know what all had been done to him. Only Obi-Wan knew – and Anakin. The padawan would never speak of his knowledge; officially all he knew was what Obi-Wan chose to share. He had chosen to share much, but not all.

"Master, you won't ever suffer like that again. Ever. You're safe. Do you have any idea how much your life means to me?" Surprising Obi-Wan, he enveloped the Jedi in a hug, making the older man laugh.

"I suppose almost as much as yours means to me," he said, returning the hug and releasing the young man, to stand with his hands bracing his padawan's shoulders, not relinquishing the touch, much to Anakin's surprise. "I was given a great gift some years ago, and don't think I properly appreciated it for a while."

"Me neither." Anakin flashed a grin. "You'll do, I thought. Then one day I realized no one else would do. You weren't the best master and I wasn't the best pupil, but we are the two best Jedi in the Order, you know. Skywalker and Kenobi – what a team."

"Flatterer," Obi-Wan returned dryly, tousling the young man's hair. "Keep that up and you'll still be a padawan at forty. Thirty if you reverse the names properly."

The two stood there, smiling at each other, before Obi-Wan asked with a searching gaze, "You are okay, right? I sense it was a difficult fight the way you're shielding – you're not hiding a wound from me, are you?"

"No. What about you, Master – are you okay now?" Anakin sent his own piercing gaze over Obi-Wan. The sparkle was back in his eye, he had regained the lost weight and his Force presence was no longer dimmed. "Are you sleeping okay?"

He wondered at the slight flush that suffused Obi-Wan's face as he nodded.

"Er, pretty much. I don't think I've woken to a nightmare since you've left. With the help of many hours of meditation and my friends – and you, my padawan – I've managed to come to terms with it all and release it. It's behind me now and best forgotten."

"Can you forget so easily? Master, I swear it'll haunt me forever – when I realized what you were forced to endure…."

"As the pain faded into the Force, so will the memories, Padawan. Let it go." He laid a gentle hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You have trouble letting things go, but this was never your burden. Don't let it be. What was the present becomes the past, and the future becomes today. Today, I am well and what was is now past."

"I can't forget!" Anakin burst out. "You were so hurt; you were tortured because _that woman_ hated you. What kind of reason is that to treat another life like that? She hated you, Master."

Obi-Wan shook his head, and softly said, "She only hated because she knew nothing different and now she will never have a chance to know anything else. I mourn that, but I am thankful you returned safe and uninjured – at least, you appear to be safe and sound. Come, the Council awaits your report since you comm'd in your readiness to present it."

For the first time in a while, the tug of familiarity touched them both, a warm reminder of many years of the two of them striding nearly side by side down the hall, through the Grand Hall and over to the lift.

In the antechamber, Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder and smiled at him. "Here we go again."

"Before we go in, Master, I wanted to give this to you." Anakin opened his hand and displayed a river rock – a companion to that which Qui-Gon had given, something else for his master to treasure because for some unknowable reason, his master seemed to treasure rocks given as gifts - only this gift came from the padawan, not the master.

Obi-Wan reached out slowly, stunned into silence, but his strong grip on Anakin's shoulder spoke volumes. The bond carried his gratitude and his determination to properly thank his padawan later. Now there was no time; the Council was waiting.

Obi-Wan palmed open the door and stepped in, stopping and bowing before the Council once he reached the center position, with Anakin only a half-second behind.

When Anakin straightened up, Obi-Wan was already half way to his seat. Feeling his padawan's surprise, Obi-Wan sat and favored him with a smile. "It's your report, Padawan, not ours. This was your mission alone."

The bond itself carried a different message: _you might as well learn to stand there by yourself; it won't be long before Padawan Skywalker will have earned the right to stand there alone as Knight Skywalker_. Anakin fought back a smile and dipped his head to his master in acknowledgement before turning his attention to the Council as a whole.

"Masters, Asajj Ventress is a threat no more. She died at my hands." That at least was no lie. The lie was in not revealing the full details.

**Epilogue**

"She still has a purpose," Count Dooku decided, standing over a yet breathing Ventress. Her injuries were grave, but she would live, with care; care that Dooku decided to graciously grant her. She might still be of use, time would tell.

An imperious gesture beckoned a droid forward as he stared down at the broken and bruised body at his feet. A broken tool, but sometimes that which was broken became stronger after mending.

"Move her to my ship and see to it that she is given medical treatment. I shall see that she is made into a new and improved ally – one who is capable of killing Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan both."

The droids gathered the broken body of Asajj Ventress, preparing to take her for reconstructive surgery and a long stay in a bacta tank.

Someday Obi-Wan Kenobi and Asajj Ventress would meet again.

One would survive. One would not. Or so the galaxy would think – for truth and reality would, as so often, collide.

The truth was far different.


	38. Epilogue

"She still has a purpose," Count Dooku decided, standing over a yet breathing Ventress. Her injuries were grave, but she would live, with care; care that Dooku decided to graciously grant her. She might still be of use, time would tell.

An imperious gesture beckoned a droid forward as he stared down at the broken and bruised body at his feet. A broken tool, but sometimes that which was broken became stronger after mending.

"Move her to my ship and see to it that she is given medical treatment. I shall see that she is made into a new and improved ally – one who is capable of killing Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan both."

The droids gathered the broken body of Asajj Ventress, preparing to take her for reconstructive surgery and a long stay in a bacta tank.

Someday Obi-Wan Kenobi and Asajj Ventress would meet again.

One would survive. One would not. Or so the galaxy would think – for truth and reality would, as so often, collide.

The truth was far different.


End file.
